PYNNSHURST. 


PYNNSHURST: 


HIS 


WANDERINGS    AND    WATS    OF    THINKING. 


JDonalir  itlacCcoir. 


"Nonjenetiendralsplasmonlivre  in  petto.    Le  Yoili,  Messieurs,  lizez-j'al 
entrepris  et  ex6cnt6  un  voyage." 

XAVIEB  DK  MAISTBE. 


NEW  YORK: 

Charles  Scrtimrr. 

1852. 


Entered,  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  In  the  year  1S52,  by 

CIIAKLES    SCKIBNEK, 

In  the  Clerk's  Ofiicc  of  t.be  District  Court  of  the  United  States  for  UK  Southern 
District  of  New  York. 


C.    tT.     BKNEDICr. 


6TEREOTTPF.It, 

201  TTllHam  Street. 


CONTENTS. 


BOOK  I. 

Pago 

L  How  I  CAME  TO  WRITE,                                  .                    .  7 

II.  GOING  AWAY,                   .                    .                    .  .11 

IIL  IMPRESSIONS  OF  HUGH  PYNNSHUCST — NATURE,                    .  10 

IV.  IMPRESSIONS  OF  PrNNsnunsx — PASSENGEBS,              .  .       18 

V.  LE  HAVRE,              ....  21 

VL  LITTLE  PAQUETTB,            .                     .                     .  .28 

VIL  THE  LADY  IN  THE  DILIGENCE,                         .                    .  33 

VIII.  A  CEOOKKD  STREET,         .                     .                     .  .88 

IX.  OVER  THE  MOUNTAIN,                                       .                     .  43 

X.  THE  FAIRY  WITHOUT  A  HEEL,              .                    .  KJ 


//. 


L  ALPS,           .                   .                   .  .  .63 

II.  FIBST  Cojonnnow,  ...  73 

III.  CLKMENCE,    .                    .                    .  .  .78 

IV.  SISTER-LOVE,          .  .  .                    .                 84 
V.  UP  THE  MOUNTAIN,          .                    .  .  104 

VI.  THE  COACHMAN'S  STOET,  .  .                    .               Ill 

VII.  TUB  SHADOW  or  MONT  BLANC,            .  .      116 


2037915 


COHTENTS. 


BOOK  III. 

Toge 

L  LAST  LOOK  AT  THE  LAKE,  .  .  .      123 

IL  MOBAT,  .  .  .  .126 

III.  CHRONICLE  OF  CHABLES  THE  BOLD,        .  .  .131 

IV.  FBIBOUBG,  .  .133 
V.  LION-HUNTING,                 ....      142 
VL  ALONG  THE  SARINE,                    ...  157 

VII.  THE  EX-PEDAGOGUE,  .  .  .  .  165 

VIII.  BORN  TO  BE  HANGED  MAT  BE  DROWNED,  .  .  173 

IX.  GOD'S  SHAKE,  .  .  .  .177 

X.  MOLESON,  .  .  .  .183 

XL  MR.  Kirrs,  ....      191 


BOOK  IV. 

L  DDTCK  BEBCHTHOLD'S  STBONO  CITT,       .                    .                    .  201 

II.  ON  TO  INTEBLAKEN,                      ...  217 

I1L  MANFBED'S  CASTLE,          ....  230 

IV.  STAUBBACH,         •   .                     .                     .                     .  233 

V.  DIE  JlJNGFBAU,  ....        287 

VL   JUNGFEACANA,  .  .  .  243 

VIL  DOWN  THE  MOUNTAIN,  ....  247 
VIII.  MORE  CLIMBING,  .  .  .  .  252 

IX.  KosENLAUi,  .  .  -  .  .262 

X.  THE  HOSPICE,  .  ...  266 

XI   THE  BIRTH  OF  TH*  RUONE,  .  .  .272 


CONTENTS. 


BOOK  V. 

Pago 

I.  A  SlCK-IlEADACHH,                .                             .  279 

II.  A  STORY  OF  THE  DEVIL,               .  .                    .               289 

IIL  PREFACE,      .                      .                     .  .                      .290 

IV.  ABOUT  TELL,          .                    .  .                    .299 

V.  THE  WHITE  BULL,            .  .                    .      805 

VI.  LUCERNE,                ....  814 

VIL  THE  LION  OF  LUCERNE,                        .  .                    .      817 

VIII.  PONTIUS  PILATE,    .                    .          ^  .                    .825 

IX.  GENEVIETE,                      .                     .  .                     .829 

X.  A  SHOBT  CHAPTER,                     .  •.                    .               835 

XL  ROSENBERG,                     .  .      835 

XII.  NOTHING  BUT  A  KNOT  OF  RIBBON,  .                    .               84G 

XIII.  OUR  LADY  or  THE  HERMITS,                  .  .-                     .      S54 

XIV.  A  FRIGHT,                    .  .                    .860 
XV.  IDA  YON  ToGGENBtrsGH,                       .  .                    .866 


BOOK  VI. 

I.  ZURICH,        .  ,                    .      877 

II.  MR.  PYNNSIIUBST'S  POKC,            .  .                    .889 

IIL  RHMHFALL,                      .  .                    .                    .897 

IV.  A  SONG,                  .                    .  .               405 

V.  THE  MAN  IN  THE  OMNIBUS,  .                    .                    .      410 

VI.  THE  HOUSE  OF  HABSBOURG,        .  •                    .               418 

VII.  ALICE,          ...  ,413 


BOOK    I. 


GOTHAM  AND  JURA. 


Wohlaut;  noch  getrunken  den  funkelnden  Weln, 
Ade  nun  Ihr  Lieben,  geschieden  muss  sein, 
Ade  nun  Ihr  Berge,  du  vaterlich  llaus, 
Es  treibt  in  die  Feme  mich  mSchtig  hinaua. 


PYNNSHURST : 

HIS  WANDERINGS  AND  WAYS  OF  THINKING. 


1. 

*  «Tai  entrepria  et  ex6cut6  one  yoyage." — X  AVIEB  D*  MAIBTSE. 
How   I   CAME    TO   WRITE. 

WHEN  I  was  in  Europe  in  the  year  18 — ,  I  often  com- 
muned with  myself  as  to  the  nature  of  my  duties  towards 
my  own  land,  the  "  green  forest  land "  of  the  poets ;  the 
"  land  of  the  free  and  the  home  of  the  brave,"  mentioned  in 
our  national  anthem. 

I  thought  of  volunteering  to  serve  her  in  an  ambassadorial 
character,  for  the  ridiculously  small  sum  of  nine  thousand  a 
year,  and  nine  thousand  outfit ;  but  remembering  that  such 
a  proposal  might  give  rise  to  misrepresentation  of  motives,  I 
determined  to  abstain  from  it. 


8  PYNXSIIURST. 

I  next  thought  of  marrying  a  princess,  and  then  forming 
an  alliance,  offensive  and  defensive,  with  the  "  land"  before- 
mentioned,  much  to  its  benefit ;  but  I  had  to  contend  with 
so  many  old  and  deeply-rooted  prejudices  that  I  failed  in 
this  too ;  and  it  is  with  sorrow  that  I  feel  obliged,  thus 
publicly,  to  state,  that,  though  I  resided  in  their  dominions 
for  some  time,  and  though  I  waived  ceremony  and  called  on 
them  first,  not  one  of  the  reigning  sovereigns  of  Europe  ever 
asked  me  to  tea ! 

After  this  I  formed  various  plans,  but  none  met  with 
better  success  than  the  two  already  mentioned.  At  last, 
one  fine  evening,  as  I  ruminated  on  the  shore  of  the  Lac 
des  Quatre  Cantons,  a  luminous  idea  smote  me.  "  I  have 
it,"  I  exclaimed,  "  Eureka !  O  my  country,  I  will  write 
you  a  book." 

It  was  when  impressed  with  a  sense  of  the  importance  of 
this  resolution  that  I  asked  myself,  What  book  shall  I  write  ? 
A  question,  you  observe,  of  no  little  moment. 

It  should  not  be  a  mere  travel-book,  nor  a  romance,  nor 
yet  a  history,  nor  a  geographical  dissertation ;  but  a  hachis, 
a  mingling  of  utile  and  dulce,  a  kind  of  literary  punch  or 
pudding.  Finally,  I  decided  as  you  will  see. 

It  may  surprise  you  to  know  that  they  are  not  my 
own  adventures  which  I  am  about  to  relate.  Mine  are  still 
more  interesting,  but  I  keep  them  back  for  the  ninth  edition 
of  this  work. 

But  one  day,  on  the  Faulhorn,  I  met  a  person  who  looked 


HOW    I    CAME    TO    WRITE.  9 

like  a  countryman,  saluted  him  and  passed  by.  We  were 
on  the  edge  of  a  precipice,  walking  upon  a  level  road  about 
seven  feet  wide.  On  one  side  was  the  perpendicular  rock  ; 
but,  at  its  outer  line,  the  road  shelved  abruptly  to  the  edge 
of  the  precipice  which  hung  over  an  awful  chasm  three 
h'undred  feet  in  depth. 

There  was  snow  a  foot  deep  upon  it.  I  heard  oie 
half-muffled  cry,  and  turned  to  see  what  I  trust  never 
to  see  again.  He  had  walked  too  near  the  outer  edge, 
and  the  snow  had  slipped  from  under  him,  and  in 
an  instant  he  was  three  feet  from  the  line  of  the  level, 
and  slowly,  slowly,  the  snow  was  yielding  to  his  weight,  and 
slowly,  but  ceaselessly,  he  slided  towards  the  brink,  carrying 
the  white  mass  with  him. 

Not  any  other  cry  escaped  him  ;  but  he  raised  his  wild, 
black  eyes  to  mine  as  I  stood  opposite  him.  There  was 
beauty  on  his  face,  but  it  was  white,  white  with  horror. 

A  yard,  perhaps,  of  space  was  between  his  feet  now  and 
the  edge,  and  his  hands  were  griping  convulsively  at  the 
rock  left  bare  above  him,  at  the  cold  and  slippery  stone ; 
and  without  pause,  but  yet  more  fearful  for  its  slowness,  it 
went  on,  as  you  have  seen  the  wreaths  upon  the  house-top 
sliding  downwards  at  the  noon-day  thaw. 

I  had  a  large  Scotch  plaid,  and  setting  my  staff  in  a 
crevice,  and  held  firmly  by  my  guide,  I  cast  the  end  toward 
him,  and   as  his  foot  passed  the   ledge,  he   caught   the 
fringe. 


10  TYNNSHUBST. 

In  the  moment's  pause,  I  noticed  bis  position.  One  leg 
was  cramped  up  under  him  ;  one  foot  hung  over  the  deep ; 
the  lips  were  set  so  firmly  and  were  so  white  that  I  could 
barely  see  their  line.  Only  the  large  black  eyes  kept  their 
awful  look  on  mine ;  the  hands  had  burst  the  gloves  in  their 
terrible  gripe  upon  the  fringe ;  the  fringe  was  sewed  upon 
the  plaid,  and  as  I  looked,  it  parted ! 

I  closed  my  eyes,  and  sickened,  and  fell  back  upon  the  snow. 

When  I  recovered  from  my  stupor,  my  guide  was  filling 
my  mouth  with  kirschenwasser,  and  the  stranger  was  stand- 
ing at  my  feet.  His  face  was  still  colorless ;  a  face  of 
ineffable  pride.  But  as  I  rose  wonderingly,  he  took  off  his 
hat  and  said  in  a  sweet  voice  a  few  simple  thanks  for  the 
service  I  had  rendered  him.  In  my  terror,  I  had  not 
noticed  that,  as  the  plaid-fringe  began  to  give  way,  my 
guide  had  gotten  his  rope  loose  and  had  thrown  it  to  the 
stranger. 

It  was  thus  that  he  was  saved ;  and  it  was  thus  that  an 
acquaintance  began  between  us,  which  soon  ripened  into  an 
earnest  friendship.  They  are  scraps  from  his  experience 
that  you  will  find  here. 

This  is  all  the  preface  which  I  have  to  offer.  If  you  like 
it— Well !  If  you  like  it  not— Well !  Peace  be  with  you ! 
and  may  your  lives  be  as  long  and  as  tough  as  that  of  our 
"  last  relic  of  the  Revolution,"  who  has  died  eleven  times  a 
month,  ever  since  I  was  born,  and  continues  to  renew  the 
phenomenon  weekly,  up  to  date.  Hail,  and  farewell ! 


II. 

GOING    AWAY. 

THERE  was  a  great  bustle  at  the  foot  of  the  pier. 

Large  men,  with  gruff  voices  and  shaggy  great  coats,  bel- 
lowed tumultuously  ;  sailors  worked  at  a  mass  of  ropes  of  a 
dreadfully  entangled  appearance ;  timid,  heavy  ladies  were 
got  with  much  trouble  upon  the  deck  of  the  packet ;  trunks 
were  dashed  about  in  a  manner  to  excite  the  indignation  of 
their  owners ;  idlers  stood,  hand  in  pocket,  on  the  wharf, 
gazing  vacantly  at  the  ship  ;  knots  of  men  and  women  were 
saying  "  adieu"  upon  the  quarter-deck  ;  two  gentlemen  from 
the  interior  were  walking  curiously  about,  poking  their 
sticks  at  every  block  and  coil  of  rope,  and  then  looking  at  it 
as  if  they  thought  that  possibly  it  was  alive,  and  might  call 
out  suddenly, 

"  Look  here  !  just  stop  that,  will  you  1" 


12  I'YNNSIIURST. 

At  last  they  began  to  plague  a  dog  chained  to  the  railing, 
but  were  checked  by  a  voice  which  called  out, 

"  Best  leave  him  aloae  ;  he's  wicious." 

But  as  they  did  not  discover  the  source  whence  the 
warning  proceeded,  they  persisted  in  their  amusement,  until 
the  animal  made  a  sudden  leap  and  snapped  a  piece  out  of 
one  gentleman's  leg.  As  he  drew  violently  back  and  rubbed 
the  wound,  a  mate,  owner  of  the  voice,  advanced  and  in- 
formed them  that, 

"  Hyderphoby  was  hereditary  in  the  family  of  that  there 
dog." 

Whereupon  the  two  gentlemen  went  immediately  over 
the  side,  and  "  never  came  there  no  more." 

Standing  by  the  quarter  railing  a  young  man  was  looking 
steadily  over  the  bay  towards  the  Narrows,  the  only  solitary 
pei-son  in  the  ship.  Behind  him  a  beautiful  girl  was  talking 
in  a  low  voice  with  two  gentlemen,  casting  a  look,  every 
moment,  at  the  motionless  figure  before  her. 

Suddenly,  as  the  captain  shouted  "  All  ashore,"  he  turned 
his  pallid  face  towards  the  little  group,  and  without  speaking 
a  word,  without  moving  the  compressed  lips,  he  pressed  the 
hands  of  the  two  gentlemen,  and,  bending  down,  kissed  the 
girl's  cheek,  which  was  whiter  now  than  his  own.  Then  ho 
turned  again  and  looked  towards  the  sea. 

His  name  was  Hugh  Pynnshurst. 

In  the  still  pride  of  his  face,  you  could  read  the  story  of 


GOING    AWAY.  13 

much  suffering,  borne  alone,  and  felt  the  keener  that  it  had 
had  no  utterance. 

One  blow  had  swept  from  him  the  last  things  which  he 
had  to  cling  to ;  he  had  been  slandered  without  power  to 
prove  his  innocence  ;  his  self-defence  was  thought  an  unpro- 
voked attack ;  he  had  been  betrayed  where  he  trusted ; 
misrepresented  where  he  served. 

Too  proud  to  seek  a  confidant,  feeling  his  sorrow  to  be 
much  too  holy  to  retail  to  any  other,  he  was  still,  and  they 
called  his  silent  anguish,  sullenness ;  and  they  thought  his 
heart  a  cold  one,  because  in  deepest  silence,  it  consumed 
away.  They  forgot  that  thorns  crackle  till  extinguished  ; 
but  in  the  heart  of  the  mountain  the  fire  is  still.  Read  in 
all  systems  of  philosophy,  he  had  been  inclined  to  irreligion  ; 
but  woe  was  beginning  to  teach  him  better.  If  I  copy 
these  verses  from  his  note-book,  it  is  because  they  were  so 
true  for  him.  He  found  them  in  Jens  Baggesen,  who  calls 
them  "  Leiden"  "  Suffering."  They  come  from  Goethe's 
Wilhelm  Meister. 

"  Wer  nie  sein  Brod  mit  Thramen  ass',  <fcc. 

Who  ne'er  his  bread  in  sorrow  ate, 

Who  never  through  the  mournful  night, 

Upon  his  couch  hath  weeping  sate, 

He  knows  you  not,  O  Powers  of  Light ! 

Ye  guide  us  in  the  inner  life, 

Ye  rack  the  sinner's  heart  with  pain, 


11  rVNNSHURST. 

And  yield  him  here  to  woe  and  strife, 
So  even  on  earth  to  cleanse  his  stain. 

In  pleasure  man  could  satisfy 

And  trust  himself,  nor  duty  knew ; 

But  sorrow  taught  him  first  to  fly, 
O  Powers  of  Glory,  up  to  you ! 

Then  who  his  bread  in  tears  hath  ate, 

Who  often  through  the  mournful  night, 

Upon  his  couch  hath  weeping  sate, 

He  knows  you  well,  0  Powers  of  Light. 

Sorrow  for  him  had  frozen  only  the  surface ;  the  deeps 
were  tremulous  and  liquid.  As  Carlyle  says  of  Burns — 
"  Beneath  the  rock,  was  a  well  of  living  sweetness." 

I  have  watched  his  face  while  not  a  feature  changed,  and 
known  that  he  was  in  agony.  I  have  seen  the  same  face 
just  as  still ;  the  mouth  as  rigid  as  if  cut  in  marble, 
while  only  the  eyes  danced  for  minutes  with  irrepressible 
fun. 

Which  is  all  that  I  have  to  say  of  him  at  present ;  for  a 
feeble  little  steamer,  Hercules  by  name,  has  cast  off  the 
ship,  and  she  is  rolling  slightly  in  the  first  swell  of  the  sea. 

The  passengers  watch  Hercules  as  he  puffs  back  whence 
he  came,  as  if  he  were  a  living  friend  ;  he  was  their  last  tie 
to  Terra  Firma. 

No  one  dared  to  go  below.  If  any  mentioned  the  word 
cabin,  he  was  looked  on  as  a  common  enemy.  One  feeble- 


GOING    AWAY.  ]5 

looking  young  man  in  a  green  great-coat,  saying  he  hoped 
that  he  would  not  be  sick,  was  scowled  on  by  the  passengers 
in  a  manner  that  was  frightful  to  see. 

But  by  degrees  the  deck  was  left  to  the  sailors,  and 
Hugh  once  upon  his  back  in  his  berth,  stayed  there  for  two 
days,  drinking  brandy  and  water,  and  then  rose  up,  as  good 
a  seafarer  as  any  on  board. 

For  the  convenience  of  all  who  may  wish  to  skip  anything, 
I  will  arrange  the  rest  of  the  voyage  into  two  divisions. 


m. 


THE  IMPRESSIONS   OF   HUGH   PTNNSHURST 

—  NATURE. 

HE  had  very  few  impressions. 

The  feeling  of  immensity  so  much  talked  about  came  not 
to  him  ;  the  waves  never  looked  like  mountains  ;  nor  their 
intervals  like  abysses. 

One  storm  they  had,  but  it  impressed  him  nothing  like  a 
storm  in  one  of  the  grand,  old  forests  on  the  shore ;  the 
wind  was  too  free  to  act  as  it  pleased ;  the  ship  only 
creaked  ;  the  cordage  merely  whistled,  and  there  were  gay, 
noisy  songs  from  the  sailors,  and  loud,  rough  bellowings 
from  the  officers,  which  added  nothing  to  the  dignity  of  the 
scene. 

Not  like  the  mystic  stillness  that  falls  upon  the  land, 
when  the  horizon  begins  to  darken  with  the  first  frown  of  the 


IMPRESSIONS.  17 

storm.  When  the  birds  are  hushed  in  the  forest,  and  the 
aspen  leaf  ceases  to  quiver,  and  the  pall  of  the  tempest 
spreads  slowly  over  all. 

And  then  the  shiver,  as  the  first  breath  sweeps  along  the 
sky,  and  the  low,  far  sound  of  the  thunder  gives  warning  of 
its  approach ;  and  the  fierce  excitement  as  the  tempest 
comes  sounding  on,  marshalling  the  armies  of  the  clouds, 
increasing  fast  and  loud  the  roars  of  their  artillery ;  then  the 
first  shudder  of  the  forest  as  the  blast  of  the  strong  wind 
strikes  it,  and  the  mighty  trees  bow  down,  and  rise  again, 
and  toss  their  huge  arms,  battling  with  the  blast. 

These  were  the  storms  that  thrilled  him,  He  could  moan 
with  the  moaning  wood ;  he  could  struggle  with  the  strong 
oak's  struggling ;  he  felt  himself  o'erthrown,  as  the  lightning 
crushed  it  to  the  earth  ;  and  when  the  calm  and  the  silence 
had  followed,  he  could  say  to  his  pride  of  heart,  "  Thou 
seest  how  vain  and  how  feeble  is  the  might  of  the  creature 
when  it  warreth  with  its  God." 

For  the  rest,  he  wondered  that  it  did  not  make  the 
porpoises  dizzy  to  turn  so  many  somersets  ;  and  when  the 
hawks  caught  Mother  Carey's  chickens,  and  brought  them 
on  board  to  eat  them,  he  noticed  that  the  little  things  were 
very  fat,  and  presumed  that  but  for  their  fishy  taste,  they 
would  be  very  good  in  a  pot-pie. 


IV. 

IMPRESSIONS    OF   H.   P.  —  PASSENGERS. 

THE  first  of  these  which  arrested  Hugh's  attention  was  a 
baby,  which,  after  the  first  inspection,  he  presumed  to  be 
the  roundest  baby  ever  known. 

It  consisted  of  two  circles  or  balls.  The  first  was  a  round 
head,  in  which  were  round  eyes,  very  black  ;  round  cheeks 
and  mouth,  very  red ;  round  nose,  of  an  indefinite  color. 
Under  this  was  a  larger  ball  of  blue  check,  which  was  sup- 
posed to  be  merely  a  covering. 

It  was  perhaps  the  greatest  baby  in  the  world  to  cry. 
Hugh  compared  it  mentally  with  some  angular  babies  whom 
he  had  known  in  earlier  life,  and  who  were  generally  pale  and 
quiet ;  and  so,  he  attributed  to  the  rotundity  of  its  person, 
its  immense  volume  of  voice. 

lU  mother  used  to  balance  it  upon  the  lower  base  or 


IMPRESSIONS.  19 

circle  on  the  floor  of  the  cabin,  where  it  would  oscillate  like 
a  Dutch  toy,  screaming  like  a  steam-whistle ;  the  scream 
gradually  subsiding  into  a  low  moan.  This  moan  would  be 
continued  until  a  lurch  of  the  ship  would  upset  the  baby ; 
whose  astonishment  would  make  it  quiet.  But  the  moment 
it  was  set  on  end  again,  came  the  oscillation,  the  steam- 
whistle  and  the  moan.  It  never  was  sea-sick  a  moment, 
bless  its  little  heart. 

The  next  was  an  old  lady  who  was  fat  and  feeble. 
Hugh  knew  at  the  first  glance  that  she  would  be  very  sick. 
As  the  captain  helped  her  up  the  side  when  she  first  came 
on  board,  she  said,  "Oh  captain!  I  shall  be  very  sick.  I 
never  shall  be  able  to  keep  anything  down." 

"  Oh,  I  hope  to  the  contrary,  madam,  we  will  take  good 
care  of  you." 

"  I  don't  doubt  it,  captain ;  but,  "she  added  thought- 
fully, "I  don't  believe  I  shall  be  able  to  keep  anything 
down." 

Very  sick  indeed  she  was.  She  ate  scarcely  anything, 
but  drank  oceans  of  soda-water. 

"  How  are  you  this  morning,  ma'am  ?"  Hugh  would  ask. 

"  Oh,  very  miserable,  Mr.  Pynnshurst." 

"  But  you  will  soon  get  used  to  it,"  he  would  say  en- 
couragingly, "  and  then  you  will  be  better. 

And  the  old  lady  would  look  hopefully  for  a  moment, 
and  then  murmur  half  doubtfully, 

"Perhaps  ;  if  I  could  keep  anything  down." 


20  PYNNSHURST. 

But  every  thing  with  her  seemed  to  have  a  tendency  tc 
come  up ;  except  indeed  the  crown  of  a  hat  belonging  to 
one  of  the  passengers,  which  she  sate  down  upon  accidentally, 
and  which  never  could  be  persuaded  to  come  up  again. 

This  is  all  I  shall  give  of  Mr.  Pynnshurst's  impression?, 
save  one  note  which  he  made  concerning  an  acquaintance 
of  the  captain's.  This  was  a  pilot  who  used  to  say,  "  That 
let  him  go  to  bed  at  eight  o'clock,  P.M.,  and  sleep  until 
eight  o'clock,  AJkf .,  and  he  would  wake  up  as  much  re- 
freshed as  if  he  had  had  a  night's  rest" 


V. 

LB  HAVRE. 

AND  now  Hugh  Pynnshurst  on  a  bright,  fine  morning, 
is  sailing  slowly  into  the  long,  stone  key  of  La  Havre,  on 
the  deck  of  a  very  comical  little  French  steamer.  He  sees 
a  dock-full  of  happy  faces ;  nobody  looks  pressed  with 
business,  nor  severe,  nor  even  dignified,  except  indeed  the 
gens  d'armes,  whose  office  requires  dignity. 

Hugh  looks  silently  at  the  tall,  thin  houses,  and  fancies 
that  they  seem  consumptive  in  their  great  tenuity.  The 
signs  being  generally  of  a  bright  red,  serves  for  the  hectic 
tint.  Hugh  ascribes  this  effect  to  the  fogs  of  the  channel. 

Altogether,  he  is  pleased.  He  likes  the  health-office)-  for 
making  him  wait;  he  is  pleased  with  the  douanier  who 
asks  him  if  he  has  anything  contraband  in  his  pocket; 


and  agrees  with  the  ladies  who  fancy  the  big  gens  d'armes 
quite  good-looking. 

There  is  quite  a  leave-taking  among  the  passengers  ;  and 
the  old  lady,  who  has  recovered  since  they  got  into  the 
channel,  is  affected  even  to  tears. 

"  Good  bye,  Mr.  Pynnshurst,"  she  sap,  "  I  wish  you  well 
wherever  you  go.  We  will  probably  never  meet  again ; 
but  I  never  shall  forget  your  kindness  to  me  when  I  could 
not  keep  anything  down." 

And  so  they  parted,  and  Hugh  never  saw  the  old  Jady 
any  more. 

But  when  he  gets  into  the  streets  of  Havre,  and  sees  the 
bare-headed  grisettes,  and  the  Breton  women  with  high 
white  caps  on  their  heads;  when  he  hears  the  constant 
clack  of  many  wooden  shoes  ;  and  they  offer  him  a  bunch 
of  violets  with  a  rose-bud  in  the  centre  for  a  penny,  and 
twenty  big  roasted  chesnuts  for  the  half  of  that  respectable 
piece  of  money  ;  when  he  sees  the  bright  shops,  all  out  of 
doors,  and  the  white-cravated,  black-coated,  respectable 
minister-like  waiters,  and  the  clergy,  in  three-cornered  hats 
and  long  cassocks,  and  the  Sisters  of  Mercy,  busy  at  their 
angel-trade,  and  church  doors  always  open,  with  kneelers 
always  there, 

When  he  sees  the  immense  Norman  horses  with  hugs 
wooden  collars,  decorated  with  painted  landscapes  and 
nosegap,  and  the  men  in  blue  blouses,  and  no  pig?,  nor 
even  a  runaway  ox  in  the  streets,  and  all  the  windows 


LE    HAVRE.  23 

of  jewels,  pictures,  caricatures  in  plaster,  biscuit,  chesnut, 
or  caoutchouc — then,  I 'say,  Hugh  Pynnshurst  is  wonder- 
fully pleased. 

One  thing,  however,  gave  him  sensations  somewhat  like 
those  which  he  experienced  during  his  first  three  days  at 
sea.  It  was  to  see  on  church  and  hospital,  monument 
and  fountain,  caserne  and  prefecture,  "  Liberte,  Egalite, 
Fraternite? 

One  circumstance  struck  him  as  rather  funny,  all  the 
"  liberty  trees"  were  dead.  Then  he  thought  within  him- 
self, that  God  had  given  this  people  rulers,  and  that  they, 
believing  themselves  wiser  than  God,  had  sent  those  rulers 
away ;  and  that  now  the  liberty  trees  are  dead,  and  the 
people's  happiness  is  only  to  read  three  words,  indifferently 
printed  upon  public  places.* 

O  France  of  S.  Louis ! 

At  last,  he  is  in  another  country  than  his  native  one,  this 
wanderer,  waiting  for  that  which  shall  befall  him  next ;  in 
his  quiet  observant  way,  getting  much  pleasure,  and  praying 
silently  in  the  deeps  of  his  heart  for 

u  Strength  to  do  the  Master's  will, 
Strength  to  suffer  and  be  still." 

What  shall  come  next  to  him  he  does  not  know.  To- 
night is  the  eve  of  All  Saints,  and  the  market  is  full  of 

J*  They  have  not  even  that  consolation  now,  but  no  matter,  they 

• 

nave  no  king,  but  only  a  president. 


24  PYNN8UUKST. 

wreaths  for  to-morrow  ;  and  the  lights  upon  the  high  altar 
are  seen  through  the  windows  of  Notre  Dame.  Pynnshurst 
goes  in  there,  and  looks  at  the  pictures,  and  the  lights. 

All  is  intensest  silence  ;  and  there  are  two  or  three  hun- 
dred people  there,  all  in  the  same  position,  motionless,  at 
the  same  occupation.  His  heart  thrills  at  their  employ- 
ment. It  is  a  great  thing  which  they  are  doing.  They  are 
praying  to  the  Most  High  God !  And  Pynnshurst  kneels 
down  in  the  shadow  of  a  pillar,  and  says  "  Our  Father !" 

There  is  this  to  be  said  about  Hugh  Pynnshurst,  on  the 
Toussaint  eve ;  that  his  sleep  was  none  the  poorer  for 
having  said  "  Our  Father,"  in  the  shadow  of  that  column  in 
the  church  of  Notre  Dame. 

So  morning  came,  and  when  Hugh  had  descended,  a 
gentleman  in  white  cravat  brought  him  his  breakfast.  His 
hair  wanted  cutting ;  and  opposite  glowed,  in  red  letters,  on 
a  ground  of  blue,  vast  tonsural  promises. 

Madame  was  alone  in  the  shop,  and  when  Pynnshurst, 
hat  in  hand,  mentioned  his  desire,  she  begged  that  Monsieur 
would  walk  up  stairs  to  the  saloon.  She  herself  would 
attend  him  to  the  foot  of  the  stairs;  and  would  cry  out, 
"  father,  a  gentleman." 

The  father  was  little  and  old,  and  read  a  newspaper, 
"  Pardon,  sir,"  he  said,  "  I  was  just  looking  over  the* 
journal. 

"  Ah,  I  see,"  Hugh  answered,  "  Journals  are  the  great 
things  now  a  day.  You  too  are  a  democrat  ?" 


LE    HAVRE.  25 

"No,  Monsieur,  I  am  no  politician,  but  democracy  inter- 
feres with  my  business.  They  never  have  their  hair 
dressed ;  and  my  daughter-in-law  hardly  ever  sells  any 
combs  and  tooth-brushes  now,  and  very  little  soap  indeed ; 
very  little  soap." 

"  There  is  equality  in  being  dirty,  my  friend,"  Hugh 
said ;  "  but  I  might  have  known  you  were  of  the  other  side ; 
there,  on  the  wall,  I  see  the  lilies." 

"  Yes,  Monsieur ;"  and  the  old  man  going  to  the  frame 
to  which  Pynnshurst  pointed,  pulled  a  string,  and  the 
lilies  vanishing,  disclosed  a  sweet,  sad  face.  Hugh  knew  it, 
but  he  asked, 

"  And  who  is  that,  my  friend  ?" 

"  It  is  Henri  de  France,"  answered  the  old  man  with  a 
sigh.  "  Monsieur  will  pardon  me,  but  I  am  an  old  man 
now.  It  is  here  that  Monsieur  is  to  sit.  I  have  a  nephew 
who  is  a  great  republican." 

"Ah,  indeed?" 

"  Yes,  Monsieur,  he  goes  for  the  regeneration  of  mankind 
and  universal  fraternization." 

"  What  is  that,  my  friend." 

"  I  do  not  know,  Monsieur,  it  is  something  in  Latin ;  but 
if  Monsieur  uses  pomatum,  I  have  some  which  I  make 
myself,  and  which  I  can  recommend  ?" 

"How  much,"  said  Pynnshurst,  thinking  aloud,  "will 
man  require  to  teach  him  that  impossibilities  are  impossible. 
Bprae  few  have  tried  these  same  experiments  in  every  age, 


20  PVNNSHURST. 

since  the  days  of  the  Babel  builders.  '  Give  us  time,'  they 
said  in  old  Rome  ;  they  had  it,  and  still  they  cry  ;  '  Wait, 
and  give  us  time.'  Alas,  how  much  is  it  that  you  de- 
mand ?" 

"  It  is  two  francs  a  roll,  Monsieur,"  said  the  barber. 

"Ah,"  thought  the  student  smiling,  "blessed  are  the 
plains !  Men  fill  up  the  valleys  ;  they  dig  down  the  heights. 
Happy,  in  these  days,  he  who  hath  a  soul  not  above  poma- 
tum !  Ah,  what  is  that  ?" 

"  It  is  the  curling-tongs,  Monsieur  ;  do  you  find  them  too 
warm  ?" 

"  My  friend,"  said  Pynnshurst,  "  when  the  Isic  Theology 
swayed  the  Land  of  the  Pyramids,  the  priesthood  had  no 
need  of  the  curling-tongs  !" 

O  O 

"  Indeed,  Monsieur !" 

"  It  is  true,  my  friend  ;  they  shaved  their  heads." 

"  That  may  be,"  conceded  the  barber,  "  but,  Monsieur,  it 
is  very  unbecoming,  unless  one  wears  a  peruke." 

"  This  piece  of  money,  my  friend,"  said  Hugh,  "  bears  the 
profile  of  Charles  the  Tenth  ;  no  very  remarkable  man  ;  but 
you  sent  him  away  unjustly,  and  with  him  the  bright  days 
of  France.  Had  she  atoned  for  the  martyrdom  of  Louis 
and  of  Antoinette,  by  loyalty  to  their  successors  :  Had  she 
kept  the  rulers  God  gave  her ;  she  would  have  had  her  old 
religiousness  again,  and  through  the  Church,  she  might 
have  won  back  pardon,  and  so,  happiness." 

(<  Ah,  Monsieur,  you  talk  as  finely  as  my  nephew,  and  yet 


LE    HAVRE.  27 

I  seem  to  understand  you.  It  is  as  simple  as  if  it  had  been 
said  by  good  little  Paquette." 

"  Who  is  good  little  Paquette,  then  ?"  said  Hugh. 

"She  is  my  grandchild,  Monsieur.  She  is  with  God 
now.  Her's  is  the  third  cross  as  you  enter  the  church-yard 
of  Notre  Dame.  There  are  lilies  on  the  grave ;  and  \ve 
placed  new  wreaths  there  yesterday." 

"  You  are  not  busy,"  said  Hugh,  "  tell  me  about  this 
•good,  little  grandchild,  till  the  next  customer  comes." 

So  the  old  man  sate  down  to  his  wig-making,  and  said  : 


VI. 

LITTLE  PAQUETTK. 

"You  see,  Monsieur,  that  Adele  (that  was  Paquette's 
mother)  was  our  youngest  child,  and  very  pretty,  and  as 
merry  as  a  bird,  with  the  lightest  foot  in  the  dance,  and  the 
sweetest  voice  for  a  song,  and  a  rosy  cheek,  and  soft  eyes, 
full  of  love  and  gentleness. 

"When  she  went  away  in  the  morning  to  her  work 
(for  she  made  gloves,  Monsieur),  it  was  like  a  light  put 
out,  and  when  she  came  back,  the  house  got  bright 
again. 

"  Well,  in  the  winter  she  was  kept  very  late ;  and, 
coming  home  one  night,  she  said  she  was  not  well ;  and 
at  last  we  refused  to  let  her  go  out  any  more,  and  she 
would  sit  in  her  room  and  cry  all  the  day  long ;  and  so, 


LITTLE    PAQUETTE.  29 

by  and  bye,  little  Paquette  was  born ;  but  Aclele  was  not 
married. 

"  Poor  Adele,  she  is  dead  now ;  we  buried  her  the  day 
her  child  was  christened. 

"  Till  she  died,  she  never  tired  of  holding  it  in  her  arms 
and  kissing  it,  but  she  never  smiled  till  after  she  was  dead, 
and  then  the  sweet  light  came  back  again  to  her  face. 
Father  Adrien  called  it  the  smile  of  the  Forgiven.  Here 
the  ,old  man  paused  for  a  moment,  and  sighed,  and  so 
went  on. 

"Well,  Monsieur,  little  Paquette  thrived  and  grew 
prettier  every  day,  and  was  the  idol  of  us  all,  and  Sister 
Mary  Angela,  one  of  the  good  Sisters  of  St.  Vincent,  taught 
her  to  read  and  write,  and  to  work  beautiful  things  for  the 
rich  ladies,  and  to  say  her  prayers  and  catechism,  and  never 
to  tell  a  lie.  And  when  she  was  fifteen,  it  would  have 
done  your  heart  good  to  hear  the  clack  of  her  wooden  shoes, 
and  to  see  her  soft  eyes  as  she  came  home  in  the  morning 
from  the  early  mass. 

u  Well,  at  sixteen,  she  was  to  be  married.  To  the  finest 
young  fellow  of  a  Claude  Bonjour  in  the  world,  with  only 
one  fault ;  he  agreed  with  Pierre  about  the  regeneration  of 
mankind  and  universal  fraternization. 

"  Now,  I  did  not  think  it  became  him  so  well  as  Pierre ; 
for  Pierre  knew  Latin,  which  made  it  more  natural ;  but  he 
was  an  idle  fellow  for  all  that. 

"  So  when  they  talked  about  crushing  tyrants,  and  doing 


30  PYNXSIIURST. 

away  nobles,  and  making  all  men  equal,  little  Paquette 
would  tell  them  that  the  king  was  a  very  good  king  ;  and  that 
they  must  learn  to  be  good  themselves  before  they  could 
make  other  people  better ;  that  one  could  not  make  bread 
cheaper  by  killing  a  king ;  and  that  the  best  way  for  the 
poor  to  get  rich,  was  to  work  honestly,  and  not  spend  their 
money  in  the  wine-shops,  nor  their  time  in  the  debating 
societies.  To  be  happy,  was  to  be  like  Father  Adrien  and 
Sister  Mary  Angela,  who  began  by  being  good ;  and  who, 
though  born  nobles,  worked  harder  among  the  poor  and 
the  sick  in  one  hour,  than  Pierre  did  in  a  month,  even  for 
himself. 

"  Then  Pierre  would  laugh,  and  tell  her  that  when  the 
nobles  fell,  the  priests  and  the  sisters  must  go  too ;  that 
they  were  drones,  and  lived  upon  the  poor.  And  then, 
Monsieur,  little  Paquette  would  talk  to  them,  just  as  you 
did  about  God  and  holy  Church ;  and  would  always 
come  back  to  this,  that  to  be  happy,  one  must  be  good  ;  to 
be  prosperous,  one  must  work ;  and  that  Claude  would  be 
no  richer  if  there  were  not  any  kings. 

"  And  so  things  went  on  till  that  revolution  came,  and 
then  men  killed  each  other,  and  the  king  was  sent  away. 

"  Well,  Monsieur,  there  is  little  more  to  tell.  Good  little 
Paquette  begged  and  pleaded  with  Claude  to  keep  at  his 
work ;  but  he  would  go  to  Paris,  to  the  barricades,  to  fight 
against  the  tyrants,  he  said. 

"  So,  after   awhile,  what  with   the  firing  of  guns  and 


LITTLE    PAQUETTE.  31 

shouting  of  men,  Paquette  got  nearly  crazy,  and  said  she 
must  go  to  look  for  Claude  ;  and  when  she  did  not  come 
back  again,  for  the  cars  were  always  running  in  those  terrible 
days,  I  followed  to  look  for  her. 

"  It  was  a  horrible  sight  in  Paris.  The  workmen  raving 
and  swearing  behind  the  barricades,  the  dead  lying  bloody 
at  one's  feet,  and  the  moans  of  the  dying  all  around  one. 
So  I  ran  hither  and  thither,  looking  for  my  child.  Every 
gown  I  saw  I  was  sure  it  was  Paquette,  but  when  I  would 
come  up  and  look  in  the  face,  it  was  only  to  be  disap- 
pointed. 

"  Then  some  one  shouted  my  name  and  bade  me 
get  out  of  the  way,  for  that  the  soldiers  were  coming.  But 
just  then  I  saw  Paquette ;  she  was  kneeling  down,  with 
Claude's  head  in  her  lap ;  for  he,  the  fine  fellow,  lay  there 
dead.  So  I  ran  between  the  people  and  the  soldiers  to  get 
at  them,  just  as  the  people  fired  and  threw  volleys 
of  stones ;  and  then  the  fire  was  returned,  and  all  tho 
bullets  swept  over  the  old  man,  but  one  pierced  the 
fair,  white  temple  of  my  little  child.  So  she  sunk  down 
slowly  beside  Claude,  and  never  spoke  nor  moved  again. 

"  They  tell  me,  Monsieur,  that  I  am  a  great  deal  better 
off  now ;  that  there  are  no  more  tyrants  nor  haughty 
aristocrats ;  and  they  write  '  Liberty,  Equality,  and 
Fraternity'  all  over  the  city.  But  Pierre  says  that  France 
is  not  regenerated  yet;  and  I,  Monsieur,  I  know  that 
my  little  Paquette  is  dead ;  and  all  that  the  Revolution 


32 

has  given  me  is  a  silent  home,  and  a  broken  heart, 
and  the  cross  upon  the  grave  where  the  lilies  are.  It 
is  the  third,  Monsieur,  as  you  go  into  the  church-yard  of 
Notre  Dame." 


VII. 

THE  LADY   IN  THE   DILIGENCE. 

" Faut  Tver  Monsieur"  shouted  the  waiter  with  much 
noise. 

"  Bien?  said  the  thoughtful  man,  and  in  half  an  hour 
his  toilette  was  completed.  It  always  took  him  some  time. 
He  fancied  that  he  thought  the  clearer  for  having  his  hair 
smooth. 

It  was  early  for  him  to  rise ;  he  dearly  loved  late  hours 
in  the  morning.  But  time  and  tide,  and  rail-cars  wait 
for  no  man.  If  he  would  leave  Havre,  he  must  do  it 

now. 

A  remarkable  fact  in  student  life  is  this.    He  was  able  to 

pay  his  bill. 

He  was  at  the  station,  and  there  saw  many  things  which 

he  never  had  seen  before.    Three  pens  wherein  to  put  th« 
2* 


34  PYNNSHURST. 

three  classes  of  passengers ;  a  knot  of  sailors  who  kissed  one 
another  on  each  cheek  before  parting ;  soldiers  who  had 
served  the  conscription  term,  each  carrying  his  receipt  at 
his  sword-belt  Members  of  the  ancient  race  of  Israel 
bearing  bundles  ;  conductors  in  uniform  ;  and  always  gens 
d'armes. 

A.h,  what  a  sweet  face !  It  was  time  he  had  looked 
twice  at  a  woman  since  quitting  America ;  but  the  graceful 
figure,  the  sad,  full  dark  eyes  of  such  clear  beauty,  and  the 

moumpg  dress,  attracted   him.     She  was  going  alone  to 

^ 
Paris. 

So  the  bell  rung,  and  all  rushed  for  the  cars ;  and  most 
were  soon  seated.  A  very  republican  official  held  the  door 
while  Pynnshurst  handed  the  lady  into  the  car.  Hugh 
saw  that  she  walked  this  world  on  very  lovely  little  feet 

"  Ah,"  she  said,  "  ray  book  in  the  pen  there." 

"  No  time  now  for  books,  Madame,"  cried  the  official, 
"  the  cars  must  start." 

"  One  moment  if  you  please,"  Hugh  said,  "  Madame,  I 
will  get  it  for  you." 

"No,  I  will  not  trouble  you,  Monsieur,  I  will  go  my- 
self." 

"Jump  in!  the  cars  are  offj"  shouted  the  officer,  and, 
with  a  fierce  jerk,  the  cars  darted  a-head.  But  the  lady 
had  jumped  out,  and  the  man  had  slammed  the  door  to 
in  time  to  catch  her  shawl. 

In  an  instant  she  was  thrown  down,  and  swept  towards 


THE    LADY    IN    THE    DILIGENCE.  35 

the  wheels.  In  an  instant  Hugh  Pynnshurst  had  torn  the 
shawl  apart  at  the  throat,  and  the  lady  lay  on  the  platform, 
while  the  train  swept  on. 

"  Sir,"  she  said,  "  I  owe  you  a  life ! "  and  it  was  in  sweet- 
toned  English  that  she  said  it. 

"  You  are  hurt,  Madame  ?"  he  asked. 

"  No,  sir ;   thank  God  and  you  ! " 

"  In  that  case,  I  have  now  only  to  deal  with  that  beast 
there ! "  and  Hugh's  eyes  flashed  toward  the  agent,  but  the 
lady  placed  a  little  kid  glove,  in  which  was  a  littUdjlhand, 
upon  his  arm,  and  said, 

"  If  you  please,  sir,  it  can  only  delay  the  cars,  which  the 
man's  screams  have  stopped ;  besides,  his  insolence  is 
official." 

So  with  more  pretty  things  upon  both  sides,  they  entered 
the  car,  and  dashed  off  towards  Rouen. 

"  They  go  rapidly,  these  care,"  said  Pynnshurst. 

No  answer  from  the  lady. 

"Humph!"  thought  Hugh,  "she  does  not  talk  to 
strangers ;  only  half-bred ;  but  let  us  try  again.  May 
I  offer  you  my  carpet  bag  for  your  feet,  Madame  ?" 

No  answer. 

"Were  you,  perhaps,  more  injured  than  you  confess V 
he  continued,  "  your  position  is  an  uncomfortable  one." 

Still  silence. 

Then  he  bent  over  and  looked  in  her  face  and  saw  that 
she  had  fainted. 


36  PYNKSI1UUST. 

"  This  is  a  true  woman,"  said  he,  "  no  shrieks,  no  fuss,  in 
the  danger ;  but  a  quiet  faint  afterwards." 

What  could  the  young  man  do?  Locked  in  the  car, 
going  twenty  miles  an  hour,  with  a  fair  girl  of  twenty  in  a 
swoon.  What  he  did  do  was  this :  He  took  off  the 
bonnet,  and  laid  the  brown-haired  head  upon  his  bosom, 
as  tenderly  and  respectfully  as  her  brother  could  have  done. 
He  drew  off  the  gloves,  and  chafed  the  little  hands  in  his ; 
looked  at  the  throat  of  the  high  dress,  and  saw  that  it 
did  n^ot  impede  the  respiration  ;  and  so  waited  till  she 
breathed  again. 

It  is  true  that  the  first  opening  of  those  dark  eyes, 
languid  and  gentle,  made  him  tremble,  and  that  he  said, 
like  an  old  romancer,  "  You  are  better  now,  dear 
lady  ! "  and  that  he  was  not  glad  when  she  was  able 
to  sit  up ;  but  still,  no  evil  thoughts  sullied  his  soul  that 
day. 

And  in  Paris,  friends  were  waiting  for  her,  and  kind 
embraces  welcomed  her,  and  Hugh  Pynnshurst  saw  it  and 
sighed  ;  and  went  on  his  way  alone.  Poor  fellow ;  he  loved 
to  be  loved.  He  could  have  said  with  that  filthy,  old 
pagan,  Rousseau — "  Eire  aime  de  tout  ce  que  m1  appro- 
chait  etait  le  plus  mf  de  mes  desirs." — CONF.  c.  i. 

She  told  in  quick  French  of  her  preservation,  and 
turned  to  introduce  her  friend  of  a  day,  but  he  was 
gone.  So  she  frowned  and  patted  her  little  foot  upon 


THE    LADY    IN    THE    DILIGENCE.  37 

the  platform,  and  thought,  "HE  is  not  polite,"  but  a 
blush  rose  slowly  to  her  cheek,  and  she  sighed  as  she  told 
herself,  "  No,  he  is  only  delicate." 


I 

I 


vm. 

A  CROOKED   STREET. 

PARIS  !  put  Paris  into  a  piece  of  a  chapter  ?  That  were 
indeed  a  microcosm. 

Ah,  thou  great  city,  with  palaces  to  weep  in,  and  dead 
liberty  trees  to  laugh  at ;  triumphal  arches,  columns  and 
obelisks ;  alleys  and  low  hovels,  and  men  in  blue  blouses 
who  have  no  bread  !  It  is  strange  for  us  democrats ;  but 
food  is  no  cheaper  since  they  exiled  the  king.  No  matter ! 
we  can  read  those  three  words  there ;  and  we  know  that 
we  are  free,  and  equal,  and  brotherly.  It  is  true,  that  great 
saying.  It  is  also  true  that  we  are  ragged  and  hungry ;  but 
then  there  are  no  aristocrats. 

The  pictures  at  the  Madeleine  and  S.  Vincent  de  Paul's 
— the  solemn  arches  of  Notre  Dame — the  old  religiousness 
of  S.  Germaine  1'  Auxerois  excited  the  heart  of  the  young 


A    CROOKED   STREET.  39 

man ;  and  thrilled  with  the  exquisite  carved  work  and 
stained-glass  of  the  Ste.  Chapelle ;  his  religiousness  was  the 
strongest  feeling  in  the  ancient  loveliness  of  St.  Roch.  But 
perhaps  what  pleased  him  most  was  the  Lady-Chapel  of 
St.  Sulpice. 

He  had  seen  but  an  altar  at  first,  but,  raising  his  eyes, 
he  was  aware  of  a  torrent  of  sculptured  clouds  that  rolled 
their  floating  lightness,  billowing  down  to  the  base  of  the 
.candlesticks,  and  back,  far  back  in  the  distance,  he  saw  with 
awed  eyes  and  heart  abased,  where,  standing  on  a  half-seen 
world,  Mary  the  Mother  held  her  God  and  Child. 

Paris,  my  friends,  is  a  large  place.  Even  from  the 
Place  de  la  Concorde  to  the  Porte  St.  Martin  is  quite  a 
walk  when  one  follows  the  Boulevards. 

It  was  Hugh's  delight  to  let  himself  out  of  his  hotel,  and 
to  promenade  the  Boulevards.  In  his  quaint  way  of  self- 
amusement,  he  was  very  well  contented  to  look  at  his 
neighbors,  as  they  worked,  played,  palavered,  or  coquetted 
along  the  splendid  promenade.  Quick,  glancing  dark  eyes 
flashed  along  his  way.  Moustaches  of  strange  trim  and  hue 
greeted  him  at  every  step.  Pretty  things  in  shop  windows 
lured  him  to  loiter.  Ugly  things  at  newspaper  offices 
caused  him  to  sigh. 

He  found  gay  passages,  and  streets  made  wide,  and  fair, 
and  broad ;  but  then,  as  he  diverged  from  these,  a  few 
paces  to  the  right  or  left,  he  stumbled  on  a  little,  old  street, 


40  PYNN8HUKST. 

BO  crooked  that  it  made  his  head  ache;  and  he  had  to 
squint  to  look  at  it. 

He  thought  it  the  crookedest  street  he  had  ever  seen, 
but  as  he  went  on,  he  met  more  that  beat  it  tremendously ; 
and  so  they  kept  getting  worse  and  worse,  till  he  got 
frightened,  and  bending  his  eyes  on  the  pavement,  he  fled 
wildly  away. 

But  when  he  stopped  and  raised  his  eyes,  he  stood  just 
at  the  entrance  of  a  new  one,  which  was  four  feet  wide  and 
an  hundred  long ;  and  crookeder  than  all  the  rest  put 
together. 

So  it  made  him  thoughtful,  and  he  stood  there  looking  at 
it,  and  wondering  if  it  led  anywhere,  and  if  people  who 
went  into  it  could  ever  find  their  way  out  again,  and  how 
they  came  to  build  it  so,  until  at  last  he  thought  that  Paris 
must  have  all  been  built  at  once,  and  very  suddenly,  right 
in  the  untamed  countiy,  and  that  some  people  had  come  to 
this  place  just  when  a  large  snake  was  squirming  in  his  last 
agonies ;  and  that  they  had  clapped  their  houses  down 
close  to  his  sides,  moving  them  hither  and  thither  as  he 
squirmed ;  and  then  had  gone  to  work  and  lived  in  them 
just  as  hard  as  they  could ;  and  that  finally,  when  the 
snake  died  and  was  taken  away,  they  called  the  place  where 
he  lay  a  street. 

And  so  going  on  from  bad  to  worse,  his  meditation  pro- 
duced dreaminess,  and  then  folly.  He  felt  an  irresistible 
desire  to  plunge  into  that  street.  He  knew  that  to  do  so  was 


A    CKOOKED    STREET.  41 

probably  destruction,  yet  he  could  not  refrain:  his  fate 
seemed  to  lead  him  on,  and  he  resolved  to  walk  through 
it,  or  to  perish. 

The  resolution  taken,  he  "  breathed  a  prayer,"  as  they  say 
in  poems  ;  thought  of  the  young  woman  who  fainted  in  the 
diligence,  and  "bounded  on."  He  made  many  turns, 
evaded  many  gutters,  became  excessively  fatigued,  and 
stopped  to  rest  against  a  lamp-post.  Opposite  was  a  picture 
of  Henri  Cinq. 

The  place  seemed  familiar ;  he  looked  again.  No,  yes ! 
It  was  the  place,  the  lamp  from  which  he  had  started. 
Then  the  shade  of  his  great  ancestor,  Hollo,  rose  before  him ; 
he  heard  once  more  those  slogan  words,  "  defeat  is  death," 
and  once  more  he  attempted  the  adventure.  This  time 
he  came  to  the  shop  next  door  to  Henri  Cinq,  and  to  the 
lamp-post. 

"  The  third  time,"  he  said  thoughtfully,  "  I  will  only  go 
half  way." 

So  he  tried  it,  and  stopped  beside  a  lop-sided  table  set 
upon  crooked  legs.  On  it  were  four  withered  pears  and 
nine  withered  apples,  two  crooked  sticks  of  calamus,  and  a 
number  of  wrinkled  chesnuts.  It  belonged  to  a  shrivelled 
old  lady  ;  and  was  watched  by  a  dog  who  had  two  broken 
legs  badly  set. 

"  Madame,"  said  Hugh,  "  it  is  a  very  nice  street  this  ?" 

"  Yes,  Monsieur,  they  made  it  so  on  purpose.  They  are 
very  nice  chesnuts  also,  Monsieur." 


42  PYNNSHURST. 

"  Five  francs'  worth,  Madame,  if  you  please.  I  find  you 
handsome." 

"  Monsieur  is  polite  ;  but  he  is  not  alone  in  his  opinion ; 
he  may  take  for  five  francs  the  table,  my  dog,  and 
me ! " 

"  Does  madame  perhaps  remember  the  building  of  this 
street  ?" 

"  No,  Monsieur ;  it  was  built  four  hundred  years  ago.  I 
was  too  young  to  remember." 

"  Was  it  always  so  crooked,  Madame,  or  did  it  grow 
so?" 

"  Monsieur,  it  was  because  of  King  Louis  the  Eleventh." 

"  Ah,  he  made  it  to  fit  his  policy." 

"  No,  Monsieur,  he  made  it  to  suit  Bossu  de  Craquenard." 

"  Madame,  guard  for  my  sake  the  five  francs  ;  you  see  it 
bears  the  image  of  Napoleon — a  good  husband  and  a  good 
Christian  ;  I  will  send  for  the  chesnuts.  Will  you  be  good 
enough  to  mention  to  me  some  anecdotes  connected  with 
the  life  of  M.  de  Craquenard  ?" 

"  Monsieur,"  said  the  old  lady,  "  the  story  is  too  crooked  ; 
I  could  not  do  it  justice.  It  would  be  an  indiscretion  on 
the  part  of  Monsieur  to  insist." 

"  Good  morning,  Madam,"  said  Hugh,  "  I  do  not  wish 
to  come  out  at  the  same  place  I  came  in  at,  so  I  will  walk 
towards  it." 

N.B. — Having  found  this  in  Pynnshurst's  curious  papers 
I  leave  it  there.  His  nonsense  is  a  part  of  his  character. 


IX. 

OVER  THE  MOUNTAIN. 

MESSIEURS  LAFITTE  et  Compagnie  have  very  extra 
ordinary  messageries.  Don't  print  it  menageries,  0,  my 
printer !  By  a  long  archway,  from  Rue  S.  Honore,  you 
reach  a  wide  square  court,  littered  with  straw,  surrounded 
with  offices.  Post  coaches,  and  enormous,  unknown  vehicle? 
stand  in  its  covers.  Many  men  hold  pens  in  their  mouths  ; 
many  other  men  in  red-braided  blue  coats,  rush  wildly  hero 
and  there  doing  nothing,  very  noisily. 

In  one  of  the  offices,  some  gentlemen  in  authority  are 
weighing  packing-cases,  trunks,  band-boxes,  hat-boxes,  glove- 
boxes,  carpet-bags,  valises,  portmanteaus,  parcels,  baskets, 
hampers,  et  id  genus  omne. 

At  the  door  of  this  office,  other  gentlemen  are  employed 
in  hitting  the  said  boxes,  <fec.  very  hard  indeed  with  large 


44  PYNNSHURST. 

hammers ;  and  in  playing  a  game  peculiar  to  themselves, 
and  which  consists  in  trying  who  can  slap  the  said  boxes, 
&c.,  most  violently  against  the  pavement. 

llugh  understood  that  he  was  to  go  from  this  place  to 
Switzerland ;  and  that  he  was  to  start  by  diligence.  He 
did  not  know  exactly  what  that  was,  but  he  supposed  that 
he  would  find  it  out  in  time,  and  therefore  waited  patiently. 

He  noticed  something  in  one  end  of  the  court  which  he 
took  for  a  public  building.  As  it  was  rather  peculiar  in 
shape  he  resolved  to  examine  it. 

The  architect  had  evidently  had  a  mania  for  vehicles,  for 
he  had  built  the  north  wing  of  this  establishment  in  the 
shape  of  an  English  chariot ;  it  had  but  one  window  very 
high  up.  Hugh  walked  along  the  street  till  he  came  to  the 
south  wall  of  this  wing,  and  found  to  his  astonishment,  that 
the  body  of  the  building  imitated  an  old-fashioned  family 
carriage  ;  quickening  his  steps  to  examine  the  south  wing, 
he  recognised  a  New  York  omnibus,  "  seats  for  twelve." 

Suddenly,  a  quantity  of  men  rushed  towards  this 
building,  placed  ladders  along  its  sides,  and  commenced 
to  cover  the  roof  with  the  packing-cases,  &c.,  before  men- 
tioned. 

"  I  am  glad  of  that,"  thought  Hugh,  "  those  fellows 
cannot  beat  them  about  any  more." 

As  he  thought  this,  he  saw  a  strong  man  mounting  a 
ladder  with  a  trunk  on  his  shoulder ;  on  the  end  of  the 
trunk  were  painted  these  letters,  "  H.  P.,  NEW  YORK." 


OVER   THE    MOUNTAIN.  45 

"  Stop,"  shouted  Hugh,  "  that's  my  trunk." 

"  Bien  M'sieur"  said  a  stern  voice  from  the  roof,  "  is  it 
not  going  to  Switzerland  ?" 

"  Certainly,"  he  answered  ;  "  but " 

"  All  right,  hand  it  up,  Pierre,"  said  the  stern  voice ;  and 
the  trunk  disappeared. 

Then  from  the  archway  leading  to  the  street  there  came 
a  bugle  blast,  and  a  roar  as  if  the  walls  were  falling  in,  and 
the  clatter  of  iron-shod  feet. 

"  It  is  a  charge  of  dragoons,"  thought  Pynnshurst, 
"  another  revolution  has  commenced." 

But  before  his  thought  was  well  finished,  there  burst  into 
the  court  four  mighty  horses,  with  their  tails  tied  up  in  a 
knot,  drawing  behind  them  just  such  a  building  as  the  one 
which  he  had  been  examining.  On  looking  carefully  once 
more  at  the  mysterious  vehicle  he  saw  four  wheels.  Then 
Hugh  knew  that  it  was  a  diligence. 

And  when  the  moment  arrived,  they  put  him  into  the 
centre  of  the  thing,  and  locked  the  door  upon  him  ;  and  the 
conductor  cracked  his  whip,  and  the  guard  blew  a  blast 
upon  his  bugle,  and  away  they  went  at  full  gallop,  through 
the  crowded  streets,  and  out  through  the  barrier  into  the 
open  country. 

Along  the  borders  of  the  sparkling  Yonne,  through 
Seine  et  Marne,  through  the  old  lindens  of  Yonne  and 

*  O 

gay  Champagne ;  through  the  low  vines  of  renowned  Cote 
d'Or ;  crossing  the  Saone  at  Dole,  and  so  up  along  the 


46  I'YNNSHURST. 

glorious  Doubs  to  old  aristocratic  Besancjon,  Queen  of  the 
Tranche  Comte. 

There,  as  he  supped,  he  began  to  think  of  what  he  had 
passed  upon  the  road. 

First  came  Melun,  with  souvenirs  of  Amyot,  servant  of 
four  kings,  Bishop  of  Auxerre,  who  first  gave  Plutarch  to 
his  countrymen,  and  left  to  us  those  "  Lives  of  Great  Men," 
which  are  unsurpassed  in  style.  Taken  A.  D.,  1309,  by 
poor  Jack  Falstaff 's  "  sweet  prince  Hal,"  when  he  came 

"  To  chide  the  Dauphin  at  his  father's  door."* 

Then  archiepiscopal  Sens,  with  its  vast,  glorious  cathedral, 
where  sleeps  the  father  of  the  last  legitimate  king  of 
France,  whose  walls  have  echoed  to  the  holy  voice  of 
Bernard,  especially  in  1140,  when  the  saint  denounced  the 
learned  but  erring  Abelard. 

Pynnshurst  was  in  fair  Champagne,  mother  of  spark- 
ling wine,  where  gay  Count  Thibault  sang  his  lais ; 
whence  France  received  Turenne  and  Cardinal  de  Retz ; 
whence  the  world  got  la  Fontaine,  and  the  devil  got 
Diderot. 

More  whip-cracking,  more  racing  along  the  banks  of 
Yonne,  and  then  in  the  night-fall  a  halt  at  Tonnerre  ;  a  city 
old  in  the  days  of  Clovis,  and  sacked  by  the  wild  Burgun- 
dian  Jean  Sans-peur. 

*  Henry  V.,  I.,  2. 


OVER   THE    MOUNTAIN.  47 

When  morning  dawned  Pynnshurst  was  in  the  land  of 
legends.  Chivalric  Burgundy,  whose  peppery  dukes  kept 
the  world  so  long  in  hot  water.  Birthplace  of  S.  Bernard 
and  Bossuet,  of  Buffon,  of  Lamartine,  and  of  that  darling 
of  all  good  little  boys  and  girls,  Madame  de  Genlis. 

While  he  ate  his  omelette  in  a  Cafe  there,  the  door 
opened,  and  a  pretty  little  black-eyed  child  came  in,  court- 
sied,  and  chante'd  for  him  some  little  songs  in  patois.  And 
her  young  face  and  clear  sweet  little  voice,  went  further 
into  his  heart  than  the  best  chant  of  the  opera  in  the  great 
Babylon  which  he  had  left  behind  him.  A  franc  made  the 
little  one  happy  as  a  princess,  as  we  say,  in  our  irony,  in 
these  days ;  and  a  horn  called  Hugh  Pynnshurst  back  to 
the  diligence  ;  and  the  diligence  whirled  him  through  Dole 
to  Besan§on. 

Refuge  of  the  old  nobles  of  France,  Besangon  guards 
within  her  walls  much  of  what  is  left  of  illustrious  name 
and  lineage.  Charles  Nodier  wrote  her  legends,  Victor  Hugo 
chants  her  glory,  it  is  Charles  de  Montalembert  who  repre- 
sented her  in  the  House  of  Deputes,  when  there  was  a  house 
of  Deputes. 

Pynnshurst  was  glad  to  exchange  the  lumbering  machine 
in  which  he  had  been  cooped  up  two  days,  for  a  good  fire 
and  a  comfortable  bed  at  Besancjon.  At  four  in  the  morn- 
ning  he  must  rise  again,  to  cross  the  Jura  ! 

The  Jura,  which  he  knows  from  the  poets  and  romancers, 


48  PYNNSHURST. 

the  western  barrier  of  Switzerland,  the  echoer  of  Alpine 
thunders,  and  he  falls  back  in  the  diligence  to  meditate. 

He  is  here,  not  in  his  legendless  but  beautiful  forests,  not 
amid  his  Hudson  Highlands,  grand  but  silent,  but  here, 
where  every  crag  has  a  story,  each  peak  and  pinnacle  a 
memory  ;  each  cavern  a  gnome ;  each  deep  dell  its  fay,  its 
green  or  white  or  blue  lady ;  each  cataract  its  headless 
woman  ;  each  brink  of  precipice  its  black  hunter. 

In  what  spirit  must  he  make  his  traverse  ?  With  the 
wild  Helvetians  to  conquer  pleasant  Gaul,  and  to  be  very 
much  astonished  by  the  Roman  legions  1  With  Charles 
the  Rash,  to  fatten  with  his  fiery  blood  and  with  the  ashes 
of  his  splendid  chivalry  the  luckless  field  of  Morat?  No, 
it  shall  be  with  gentle  Lady  Bertha,  Queen  of  Bui-gundy, 
who  flying  from  her  enemies  eight  hundred  years  ago,  left 
in  every  district  a  church,  on  every  mountain  top  and  dan- 
gerous pass,  an  hospice  or  a  chapel,  or  at  least  a  wayside 
cross. 

So  thinking,  he  sleeps  and  dreams,  until  the  conductor 
calls  to  him  : 

"  Monsieur,  we  are  at  Pontarlier." 

Then  Mr.  Pynnshurst  wakes  up. 

Pontarlier  is  as  ugly  a  little  village  as  anybody  could 
desire  to  see  :  it  is  a  spot  on  the  sun ;  a  flaw  on  the 
diamond  :  a  very  wretched  collection  of  houses  in  the  midst 
of  a  painter's  Paradise. 

The   ascent  of  the  Jura  has   begun.     Before   us,  and 


OVER   THE    MOUNTAIN.  49 

around  us,  and  above  us,  rise  the  immeasurable  mountains  ; 
and  slowly  the  horses  toil  up,  dragging  the  huge  diligence 
after  them,  and  Hugh  is  walking  behind  it  on  the  crisp 
snow,  to  warm  his  blood  by  exercise  in  this  cool,  fresh  air 
of  the  mountain. 

There  on  his  right,  from  its  commanding  height,  frowns 
the  old  Chateau  de  Joux,  prison  of  Mirabeau  and  Fou- 
quet. 

A  beautiful  valley,  watered  by  the  Doubs,  sheltered  by 
lofty  mountains,  begins  the  road,  which  narrows  to  a  path 
ten  feet  wide,  and  this  goes  skirting  up  the  mountain  to  the 
foot  of  the  towers,  which  the  last  Count  de  Joux  sold  hi 
1500  to  Philip  the  Good,  Duke  of  Burgundy. 

There  was  snow  on  all  the  heights,  which  seemed  to  be 
there  forever,  so  cold  and  still  it  lay  upon  the  rocks  or  on 
the  branches  of  the  stunted  firs.  Huge  icicles  of  every  pos- 
sible shape,  gleamed  in  the  clear  morning  sun,  or  having 
grown  too  heavy,  broke  from  the  ledge  that  held  them,  and 
dashed  to  atoms  by  some  intervening  rock,  sprinkled  their 
diamonds  at  the  young  man's  feet,  a  tribute  from  the 
fays. 

Before  him  the  road  mounted  always,  twisting  along  the 
mountain  side,  interminable  to  the  eye.  At  his  left,  the 
cliff  whose  summits  he  could  not  see  ;  above  him,  in  the 
still  blue  sky,  one  or  two  eagles  floating  in  the  deep,  at  his 
right  hand  a  low  stone  parapet. 

Looking   over   the   latter,  his  eye  passed   over  broken 


50  PYNNSHUKST. 

ledges,  and  rough  and  jagged  rocks,  where  a  few  lichens, 
and  dwarf  junipers  found  scanty  nurture,  and  little 
streams,  torrents  in  summer  time,  dripped  on  the  valley  he- 
low.  And  far,  far  down,  the  0  diminished  to  a  silver  cord, 
sparkling  in  the  winter  sunbeam,  threaded  its  joyous  way 
mid  the  red  roofs  and  clustering  orchards,  that  looked  like 
child's  toys  in  the  distance. 

And  the  low  murmur  of  recommencing  life,  came  faintly 
upward  to  his  ears  ;  and  the  first  wreaths  of  the  housewife's 
smoke,  floated  in  light  and  curling  clouds  between  him  and 
the  valley.  The  diligence,  far  beyond  him,  passed  noise- 
lessly over  the  snow ;  and  not  even  the  tinkling  of  the 
horses'  bells  was  heard  ;  but  all  around  him,  in  this  solemn 
mountain  pass,  was  infinite  grandeur  and  unbroken  calm. 
And  God  was  in  the  grandeur  and  the  calm. 

Memories  of  the  lost  were  with  him — spirits  of  the  dead 
stood  beside  him. 

"  The  shadows  of  the  loved  ones  who  departed 
In  the  far,  long  ago." 

There  were  whisperings  in  his  ear  as  of  old  tenderness, 
he  could  tell  his  mother's  voice  and  another's,  and  they  were 
bidding  him  crush  his  wild  passions  and  be  still,  and  to 
consecrate  his  life  to  noble  ends,  and  to  be  a  Christian  man, 
and  a  loyal  gentleman.  And  he  felt  that  he  grew  better  in 
the  loneness  there  upon  the  Jura ;  for  that  it  was  no  fancy  ; 


OVER    THE    MOUNTAIN.  51 

but  that  very  truly  his  God  was  in  that  grandeur  and  that 
calm. 

So  he  started  for  a  race  along  the  road,  and  in  a  quarter 
of  an  hour,  all  glowing  with  the  air  and  exercise,  caught  up 
the  toiling  diligence. 

"  Bonjour,  Garde,  a  fine  morning  we  have  here." 

" Bonjour,  Monsieur"  cried  the  guard,  touching  his  cap, 
and  then  resuming  his  occupation,  which  was  a  vain  endea- 
vor to  set  fire  to  his  pipe. 

"  Tenez  mon  Irave"  said  Hugh,  " try  an  Havanna  and 
a  patent  match." 

"  Monsieur  is  too  good." 

"  Not  a  bit  of  it,  my  friend ;  may  I  climb  up  there  beside 
you." 

"  I  shall  be  proud  of  your  company,  Monsieur,  and  it  is 
the  best  place  to  see  the  country  from." 

So  Hugh  climbed  up,  and  the  guard  wrapped  his  feet  in 
bearskin. 

"  There,"  he  said,  Monsieur,  "  is  the  house  of  the  Cfochon 
Noir." 

" '  And  who  may  he  be,  my  friend  ?' 

"  It  is  the  fiend  who  guards  the  treasure  of  the  moun- 
tains." 

"  Ah !  you  have  plenty  of  those  gentry  here  then  ?" 

"  Oh,  yes,  Monsieur,  but  more  off  there  to  the  left,  in  the 
mountains  by  the  Val  du  Travers ;  it  is  the  Cdte  des  Fees, 


52  PYNNSHURST. 

that :  But  stop ;  you  see  that  high  peak,  far  to  the  right 
there  ?" 

"  That  one  with  the  night-cap  still  on  2" 

"  Precisely,  Monsieur ;  well  that  is  by  Vallorbes,  where 
the  great  forges  are,  and  where  Donat  worked  ;  you  know 
his  story,  Monsieur  I" 

"  Some  points,  I  fear,  have  escaped  my  memory  ;  if  you 
would  only  be  good  enough  to  tell  me  again  ;  but  first  try 
another  segar." 

"  A  thousand  thanks,  Monsieur,  and  if  Monsieur  thinks 
that  it  will  not  fatigue  him,  I  will  tell  him  the  story  of 
Donat." 

"  Bravo  !  come  on  then ;  here  I  am,  wrapped  up  in  your 
furs  and  all  attention.  Begin  then." 


X. 

THE  FAIRY  WITHOUT  A  HEEL. 

"  WELL,  Monsieur,"  said  the  garde,  "  Donat  was  just 
eighteen  years  old,  and  was  a  tall,  fresh,  tight-legged,  hand- 
some fellow  as  you  would  see  in  a  hundred  years  ;  and  for 
all  he  worked  in  the  forges,  he  was  never  black  and  grimy 
like  the  others ;  but  neat  and  proper  as  a  prince.  And 
when  on  Sunday  morning  he  had  a  knot  of  bright  ribbon 
at  his  knees,  and  a  feather  in  his  hat,  there  were  few 
women  that  passed  him.  without  turning  to  look  at  him 
again. 

"  Just  above  Val  Orbes,  there,  a  huge  cavern  opens  sud- 
denly in  the  height  of  the  mountains,  into  which  nobody 
had  ever  dared  to  penetrate,  because  it  was  well  known  to 
be  the  abode  of  the  fairies,  v/ho  never  would  suffer  any  one 
to  visit  them. 


54  PYNNSHUIIST. 

"  Only  in  the  holy  time,  in  which  our  Lord  suffered  for  us 
long  ago,  that  is  on  every  Palm  Sunday,  as  the  people  came 
home  from  mass  carrying  the  blessed  branches  in  honor  of 
the  Lord's  Passion,  they  saw  at  the  mouth  of  the  cavern,  a 
beautiful  lady  robed  all  in  white.  If  she  had  a  white  lamb 
in  a  silver  leash,  the  year  would  be  abundant,  the  vintage 
full,  and  the  harvest  plentiful,  and  free  from  blight  and  tares ; 
but  if  it  were  a  black  kid  that  the  lady  had,  storms  would 
ruin  the  crops,  and  the  grapes  be  few,  and  would  not  ripen 
well ;  and  then  the  people  would  go  sadly  homeward  putting 
their  trust  in  the  good  God,  who  could  make  even  the  little 
suffice  for  them. 

"  Sometimes  the  same  or  another  fay  used  to  come  to 
bathe  in  the  fountain  and  the  source  of  the  Orbe,  guarded 
by  two  wolves,  who  kept  the  curious  at  a  distance. 

"  And  always  in  the  winter  time,  when  the  forgerons  had 
left  their  work,  these  beautiful  creatures  would  come  in 
troops  to  enjoy  the  warm  air  of  the  forges,  and  to  dance  and 
sing  there,  while  a  cock  stood  sentinel,  and  always  gave 
warning  an  hour  before  the  return  of  the  workmen.  It  was 
agreed,  upon  all  hands,  that  their  voices  were  very  sweet, 
that  they  always  wore  white  dresses  long  enough  to  conceal 
their  feet  entirely,  and  that  their  long,  black  hair  fell  over 
their  shoulders  and  served  for  mantle. 

"  Now  Donat  was  determined  to  get  into  this  cavern,  for 
he  was  a  fearless  fellow ;  and  so,  one  Sunday  morning,  when 


THE    FAIRY    WITHOUT    A    HEEL.  55 

he  might  much  better  have  gone  to  Mass,  he  set  off  for  the 
mountain  and  began  to  climb  it. 

"  It  was  in  June  and  very  warm.  After  awhile  he  reached 
the  mouth  of  the  cave,  and  went  boldly  in,  but  to  his  sur- 
prise, found  it  small  and  empty.  Spying  about,  however, 
he  discovered  above  his  head  a  fissure  in  the  rock  ;•  and 
when  he  had  drawn  himself  up  by  his  hand,  and  looked 
through  this,  he  saw  another  and  larger  chamber. 

"  When  he  had  entered  this,  he  felt  very  weary  and  drowsy, 
and  lying  down  in  a  corner,  upon  a  thick  bed  of  moss  which 
he  found  there,  he  soon  slept  soundly. 

"  When  he  waked  he  found  the  cavern  lighted  up  bril- 
liantly, and  a  beautiful  lady  sitting  beside  him,  with  two 
little  leverets  at  her  feet.  She  gave  him  a  small,  soft,  white 
hand,  and  said, 

" '  Donat,  I  am  pleased  with  you,  and  if  you  will  rest  with 
me,  I  will  make  you  happy  during  a  whole  century.  I 
will  teach  you  where  the  precious  metals  are,  and  how  to 
know  the  healing  qualities  of  herbs,  and  many  another 
thing.  My  sisters  in  the  grotto  of  Montcheraud  will  join 
me  in  giving  you  fifty  pleasures,  for  every  one  you  havo 
in  the  world  there.  What  say  you  ?' 

" '  That  I  have  but  one  wish,'  cried  Donat,  delighted  at 
his  good  fortune, '  the  wish  to  please  you.' 

"  '  It  is  a  bargain,  then,'  replied  the  fay  ;  '  but  always  under 
condition — That  you  will  never  try  to  see  me  when  I  wish 
to  be  unseen ;  nor  to  follow  me  when  I  retire  to  any  other 


56  PYNNSHURST. 

part  of  my  dwelling.     Can  you  pledge  your  word  to  ob- 
serve these  conditions  ?' 

"  And  Donat  gave  his  honor. 

"  '  Here,  then,'  said  the  lovely  fay,  '  take  these  two 
purses,  and  every  day  that  you  please  me,  I  will  put  a  piece 
of  gold  in  one  and  a  pearl  in  the  other ;  but,  remember, 
that  if  you  infringe  our  agreement  even  once,  you  will  lose 
everything,  and  be  punished  for  the  rest  of  your  life.' 

"  The  enchanted  Donat  promised  to  be  beyond  reproach, 
and  so  for  a  fortnight  he  was,  and  every  day  received  his 
pearl  and  his  piece  of  gold,  and  when  the  noon  bell  was 
rung  in  the  Church  of  our  Lady  at  Vallorbes,  the  side  of 
the  cavern  used  to  open,  and  he  would  find  the  fay  seated 
at  a  table  ready  for  him.  Roebuck  from  Jura,  and  trout 
from  the  Orbe,  cream  and  honey  and  wine  from  Arbois  ; 
with  fruits  from  all  the  Cantons,  and  from  France.  Not  a 
bad  dinner,  that,  Monsieur,"  said  the  Garde. 

"  I  agree  with  you,  heartily,"  said  Pynnshurst ;  "  you 
don't  know  whether  I  could  get  Donat  to  introduce  me  to 
one  of  the  Sisters  ?" 

"  Ah,  Monsieur,"  said  the  Garde,  "  that  is  all  gone  by. 
We  have  not  any  fairies  now." 

"  So  much  the  worse  for  us,  my  friend,  we  lost  many  a 
good  thing  when  we  lost  the  fairies  ;  but  go  on  always 
with  your  story." 

"  AVell,  Monsieur,  all  went  well  for  awhile.  After  dinner 
the  lady  would  tell  him  legends,  and  wondrous  things 


THE    FAIRY    WITHOUT    A    HKKL.  5V 

about  the  mountain,  and  would  sing  to  him  beautiful 
songs ;  and  then  would  motion  to  him  to  retire,  and  the 
wall  would  close  again. 

"  But  he  at  last  began  to  tire  of  his  solitude,  and  to  wish 
to  see  more  wonderful  things,  and  he  determined  at  the 
very  first  opportunity  to  follow  the  fay  stealthily. 

"  Well,  Monsieur,  he  had  hardly  made  this  resolution, 
when  looking  up,  he  noticed  that  the  wall  had  not  closed 
entirely,  but  that  there  was  space  enough  left  to  pass 
through.  So  he  forgot  his  word,  and  slipped  through  the 
crevice,  passed  through  the  dining-room,  and  found  a  door 
at  the  other  end  which  opened  into  the  prettiest  boudoir 
ever  seen.  The  walls  were  covered  with  jewels,  and  the 
floor  was  polished  marble,  and  there  on  a  couch  of  velvet 
the  lady  lay  asleep. 

"  Donat  approached  on  tip-toe,  and  saw  that  the  long  robe 
was  displaced  enough  to  show  a  little  foot,  and  that  that 
little  foot  had  no  heel.  Here  was  the  mystery.  It  was 
like  the  foot  of  a  water-fowl.  But  while  he  gazed,  one  of 
the  little  leverets  made  a  noise,  and  he  looked  up  and  saw 
the  beautiful  dark  eyes  of  the  fairy  fixed  upon  his. 

" '  Go  !'  she  said,  '  liar ;  return  to  the  dust  and  toil  of 
your  forge.  Had  you  endured  your  trial  for  one  month,  I 
would  have  made  you  my  husband,  and  shared  my  power, 
my  riches,  and  my  knowledge  with  you.  I  do  not  take 
back  what  I  have  given ;  keep  the  two  purses ;  but  if  you 
3* 


58  PTNNSHUBST. 

ever  reveal  what  you  have  seen,  your  punishment  will  fol 
low. .  Now  go !' 

u  The  fairy  vanished,  the  lights  were  extinguished,  and 
Donat  groped  his  way  to  the  mouth  of  the  cavern,  and 
crawled  down  the  mountain  side  to  his  forge. 

"  Now,  when  a  man  begins  to  be  false,  he  never  knows 
when  to  stop,  and  Donat  who  had  deceived  the  fairy  now 
disobeyed  her  the  second  time,  and  boasted  to  his  comrades 
of  her  kindness  to  him. 

" '  These  are  brave  stories  that  you  tell  us  here,'  they 
cried  laughing, '  thou  hast  been  drinking,  Donat.' 

" '  See  then  if  I  have,'  said  ho,  drawing  out  his  two 
purses, '  look !  one  is  filled  with  gold  and  the  other  with 
pearls.' 

" '  Brave  gold !  Brave  pearls,'  laughed  a  forgeron,  turning 
them  inside  out,  'your  gold  is  slate  stone,  your  pearls  are 
juniper  berries.' 

"  A.nd  Donat  to  his  consternation  saw  that  it  was  true  ;  so 
in  revenge  he  said  that  he  had  refused  the  fay's  offers  of 
marriage,  and  mocked  at  her  feet  without  heels.  But  this 
only  scared  away  the  fairy,  who  forsook  her  grotto,  as  you 
can  see  it,  when  you  will,  at  Vallorbes. 

"  And  Donat  went  on  from  bad  to  worse,  and  was  hanged 
at  Geneva  for  robbing  a  traveller.  Ah,  Monsieur,  it  is  a 
bad  thing  to  break  trust  even  to  a  fairy.  But  we  don't  be- 
lieve in  fairies  now." 

"  No,"  said  Pynnshurst,  "  nor  in  much  else ;  the  deca- 


THE    FAIRY    WITHOUT    A    HEEL.  59 

dence   of  credulity   was   soon  followed   by  the  decay  of 
faith." 

"  Monsieur  ?"  said  the  Garde. 

"  I  only  meant  to  say,  my  friend,  that  we  had  better  be- 
lieve too  much  than  too  little." 

"  Very  true,"  answered  the  Garde,  "  Monsieur  will  soon 
be  in  a  country  where  they  don't  even  believe  in  the 
saints." 

"  I  know  it,  my  friend,  but  did  it  never  strike  you  that 
perhaps  you  believed  too  much  in  them  ?" 

"  No,  Monsieur,"  said  the  Garde  in  his  simple  way,  "  I 
do  not  study  those  things  much ;  but  I  think  that  God 
will  pardon  us  if  we  make  a  mistake  in  trying  to  get  nearer 
Him !" 

That  night,  after  a  freezing  ride,  Hugh  Pynnshurst  slept 
at  the  Faucon,  in  the  ancient  Principality,  and  very  modern 
Republic  of  Neuchatel ;  and  uncommonly  sound  he  slept 
too. 


BOOK.    II. 


CANTON    N  E  u  c  u  A  T  E  L  , 


"  Dans  la  federation  on  il  fut  re§u  en  1815,  le  Canton  de  Neucbatel  occupe  de 

Vingt  et  unidine  rang :  mais " 

DE  GOLDEBY— La, 


I. 

ALPS. 

WHEN  Hugh  awaked  the  next  morning,  he  took  a  coup 
cToeil  of  his  chamber  from  beneath  the  down  coverlid  of  his 
bed.  On  the  wall  opposite,  Arnold  von  Winkelried,  in  a 
red  beard,  was  in  the  act  of  breaking  the  Austrian  ranks. 
About  thirty  spears  were  run  through  or  into  the  body  of 
the  said  Arnold,  without  seeming  to  cause  him  the  smallest 
inconvenience. 

On  the  chimney  piece  was  a  small  clock  of  course; 
flanked  by  a  plaster  parrot  and  an  elongated  tea  cup,  which 
Hugh  supposed  was  intended  for  a  vase.  A  noise  in  the 
street  induced  him  to  rise,  to  endue  his  dressing-gown,  and 
to  look  out  of  the  window. 

Four  melancholy  musicians  blew  discord  through  long 
horns.  A  small  boy  with  a  knapsack  trudged  lazily  to 


64  PYNNSHURST. 

school.  A  large  dog  at  a  baker's  door  sate  very  up- 
right looking  at  the  musicians,  evidently  much  affected  by 
the  sounds  which  they  emitted.  Other  living  thing  was 
none. 

So  he  rang  the  bell,  and  began  to  dress.  In  a  few 
moments  a  tall  waiter  entered. 

"  Monsieur  has  rung  !" 

"  Yes ;  first  for  some  fire,  and  secondly  for  rny  breakfast.* 

"  What  will  Monsieur  be  pleased  to  eat  ?" 

"  Do  eggs  grow  in  Neuchatel,  my  friend  ?" 

"  The  finest  in  the  world,  Monsieur." 

"  An  omelette  then,  :f  you  please,  and  coffee  and  a  piece 
of  toast." 

"  They  will  be  ready  in  fifteen  minutes,"  and  the  tall 
waiter  vanished  with  a  bow. 

After  breakfast  Hugh  issued  forth  to  stroll  as  was  his 
custom  in  the  streets.  It  was  Fair-day,  and,  by  eleven 
o'clock,  the  market-place  was  full.  Donkey  carts  laden  with 
poultry  and  butter  from  the  country ;  plump  pedestrians, 
tied  by  a  cord  to  the  hind  legs  of  plump  pigs.  Strong  men 
with  enormous  packs  upon  their  shoulders.  Women  from 
Berne  in  short  jackets  with  white  linen  bosoms. 

There  he  saw  the  Tyrolienne  with  her  gold  laced  steeple- 
hat,  crowned  with  a  knot  of  bright  ribbons,  and  her  little 
stock  of  chamois  gloves  'and  purses :  the  paysanne  of  Unte:- 
walden  white  from  the  waist  upward,  save  for  the  broad 
black  straps  that  crossed  her  shoulders  and  kept  up  the 


ALPS.  65 

dapk  brown  nether  robing :  there  the  Vaudoise  with  brazen 
buckles  in  her  shoes :  the  symmetrical  tight-stockinged  leg 
of  the  man  from  the  Valais ;  the  big-footed  maiden  from 
Soleure  with  her  wooden  box  of  merchandise ;  the  Bernoise 
with  enormous  wings  of  black  lace,  flanking  her  jet  black 
hair;  and  the  large  dames  of  Friburg  who  wore  small 
flower  beds  upon  their  heads,  and  invited  the  passers  to  buy 
cheese  of  Gruyere. 

Strolling  on,  he  came  to  the  edge  of  the  lake,  and  looked 
at  the  numerous  washerwomen  who  pursued  their  vocation 
in  broad  straw  hats  and  blue  stockings. 

Raising  his  eyes,  he  beheld  a  sight  that  thrilled  him  with 
its  unutterable  beauty.  A  glorious  sun  shone  through  the 
clear  pure  air  of  winter ;  one  or  two  mist-clouds  floated  in 
the  sky ;  and  the  broad  lake,  clear  as  a  child's  eyes,  slept  in 
the  bosom  of  the  hills  before  him. 

Nine  leagues  of  its  bright  waters,  transparent  at  the  depth 
of  forty  feet,  reflected  the  pointed  roofs,  the  crests  of  fifty 
hills,  the  sharpened  turrets  of  the  old  chateau. 

Behind  him,  "Jura  in  her  misty  shroud"  cradled  her 
thunders  in  repose.  Before  him,  ever  white  and  ever  grand 
rolled  height  on  height ;  and  lightning  shattered  pinacle ; 
and  peaks  that  like  philosophers  were  always  in  the 
clouds. 

Eighty-five  miles  of  everlasting  Alps  fiom  Sen tis  to  Mont 
Blanc,  "the  Monarch  of  Mountains."  Monastic  Gothard, 
Jungfrau  in  her  robe  of  snow  ;  the  Giant,  thirteen  thousand 


66  PrNNSHURST. 

feet  of  stature  ;  the  Silver  Needle  at  his  side,  scarce  shorter 
than  himself;  Schreckhorn  and  Wetterhorn,  fathers  of  the 
avalanche,  whose  footstool  is  placed  beneath  the  Glaciers. 
Broad-chested  Diablerets  ;  and  farther  on,  the  hill  of  endless 
snows,  where  solemn  psalms  float  on  the  cold  wild  winds,  and 
prayer  unceasing  hallows  frozen  waves  and  blessed  splin- 
tered rocks,  God's  mountain  of  benevolence,  where  good  S. 
Bernard  left  his  name  and  family  to  win  the  benedictions  of 
all  time. 

He  kept  his  eyes  long  fixed  upon  the  mountains,  and 
when  he  dropped  them  to  the  lake  again,  he  did  not  see  the 
white  villages  along  its  shores,  there  were  tears  "between 
them  and  his  retina.  But  when  he  had  wiped  them  away, 
he  looked  thoughtfully  at  the  washerwomen,  and  said,  men- 
tally addressing  them : 

"  Mesdames,  it  is  a  wonderful  wash-tub  that  you  have 
here." 

It  was  true.  There  are  few  lovelier  lakes  than  that  of  Neu- 
chatel, and  the  Alpine  view  is  the  most  extensive  to  be  found 
in  Switzerland. 

"  Where  must  I  go  next  ?"  he  asked  himself.  "  There 
are  no  guide-books  of  Neuchatel ;  the  tourists  never  come 
here.  I  will  go  and  ask  the  long  waiter."  And  the  long 
vraiter  told  him  to  go  to  the  Chateau-Church. 

Now  you  must  know  that  Neuchatel  may  or  may  not 
have  been  the  ancient  Noidelonex,  one  of  the  twelve  towns 
which  the  Helvetians  burnt,  when  they  started  on  the  con- 


ALPS.  67 

quest  of  Gaul,  and  were  stopped  by  our  old  friend  Julius 
Caesar.  The  subject  is  important,  and  there  is  much  to  be 
said  upon  both  sides. 

An  old  square  Roman  tower  stands  at  the  foot  of  the  hill 
yet,  massive  and  ugly ;  in  it  roost  the  Sacristan  and  an 
amiable  family. 

Higher  up,  on  the  crest  of  a  hill  which  dominates  the 
hike,  the  sharp  points  of  the  Chateau  towers  arise.  Here 
lived  many  a  stout  count  from  the  days  of  Ulric  of  Fenis  in 
1070.  His  great  grandson,  Ulric  Fourth,  Count  of  Neu- 
chatel,  wedded  the  gentle  lady  Bertha,  Princess  (heaven 
help  us !)  of  Samaria !  And  these  two  built  a  stately 
Norman  Church  to  God  and  to  our  lady.  Thus  saith  the 
Gothic  legend  over  the  ancient  door  : 

Respice  Virgo  pia,  me  Bertha  S'ta  Maria 
Et  simul  Ulric  que  it  fugiens  inimic — 
Da  dom.  honoris  id  faciendibus  et  Parad 

A  legend  which  any  one  is  at  liberty  to  translate  who 
may  feel  himself  capable. 

Here  is  the  monument,  freshly  restored,  of  the  stout 
counts ;  where  thirteen  figures  stand  in  gilt  and  painted 
stone.  Some  in  full  armor,  some  in  long  flowing  robes. 
Count  John  de  FrSburg,  with  his  dogs  at  his  feet ;  Count 
Louis  all  in  white ;  some  helmed,  some  coronettecl,  some 
bareheaded.  Four  ladies  clothed  in  white,  and  all  with 
clasped  hands  in  the  attitude  of  prayer.  Over  the  head  of 
2 


68  PYNNSIIURST. 

one  gentle-faced  dame,  two  angels  bend  listening  to  her 
prayer. 

Every  arch  rests  on  a  devil's  head  ;  every  very  uncomfort- 
able weight,  such  as  columns,  big  friezes,  bases  of  monu- 
ments, and  so  forth,  rests  on  a  crushed  demon,  whose  tongue 
sprawls  out. 

One  peculiar  pious  tenderness  Hugh  Pynnshurst  observed 
here.  Every  fiend  is  in  perfect  preservation,  and  grins  out 
from  the  walls  upon  the  cold  naked  nave  ;  but  every  saint 
and  angel,  (Hugh  counted  twenty,)  has  his  nose  knocked  off. 
S.S.  Paul  and  Peter  who  guard  the  eastern  door  have 
suffered  even  worse :  their  heads  have  been  battered,  even 
to  the  damage  of  the  wall  behind  them. 

So  when  he  had  gone  up  in  the  gallery  to  look  at  the 
organ,  over  which  a  modern  King  David,  in  blouse  and  pan- 
taloons, plays  upon  a  white  pine  harp ;  and  when  he  had 
asked  many  questions  about  the  church  and  the  city ;  and 
had  given  his  gulden  to  the  old  lady  who  had  the  keys  ;  he 
passed  on  his  way  thinking  somewhat  as  "follows. 

Rest  ye  well,  good  Lady  Bertha,  side  by  side  with 
Count  Ulric  in  the  church  which  ye  builded  to  S.  Mary 
the  virgin.  There  in  your  time  twelve  holy  cauonc  sang  the 
sacred  hours  ;  and  thence  the  voice  of  prayer  soared  higher 
than  the  Alps. 

There  was  the  home  of  the  needy  and  'the  refuge  of  the 
feeble.  There  from  the  heights  of  Jura  came  the  wild 
mountaineer  to  pray,  and  the  hardy  vigneron  offered  hit 


ALPS.  69 

first  fruits  unto  heaven.  The  pilgrim  rested  there;  the 
widow  and  her  little  ones  found  bread,  there  the  oppressed 
had  a  shelter,  and  the  hand  of  the  rude  baron  could  not 
reach  them,  for  their  God  was  their  shield.  There  too  the 
penitent  came  weeping,  and  went  away  joyous. 

But  the  lights  are  extinguished  and  the  altar  gone.  The 
voices  of  angels,  as  of  old  time  in  Jerusalem,  have  uttered 
the  solemn  cry  "  Let  us  go  hence."  The  presence  of  the 
Redeemer  hath  passed  from  his  sanctuary,  and  the  chant 
of  His  ministers  sounds  there  no  more.  But  the  poor  beg 
for  kreutzers  on  the  dusty  highways,  and  the  widow  begs  a 
ticket  for  the  Soupes  Economiques.  They  send  the  wan- 
derer to  the  caserne,  and  the  sinner  to  the  gaol.  The 
mountain  knee  bends  but  in  dancing.  The  vigneron  gets 
tipsy  on  his  first  fruits,  and  you  see  but  the  mutilated  crosses 
and  images  of  saints  and  angels  in  the  stripped  and  deso- 
late buildings. 

All  the  houses  here  nearly  look  like  prisons.  The  doors 
are  so  small,  the  windows  are  so  high  up,  the  iron  gratings 
are  so  massive  and  abundant. 

It  is  a  droll  place. 

It  was  at  first  a  principality  subject  to  Burgundy.  From 
Ulric,  in  one  thousand  and  seventy,  to  Isabelle  in  1395, 
were  fourteen  Counts  and  Countesses  of  Neuchatel ;  then 
it  passed  first  to  Conrad  and  then  to  Jean  of  Friburg ;  then 
came  two  Baden-Hochberg  rulers ;  and  after  them,  eight 


70  PYNNSHURST. 

princes  of  the  royal  house  of  France,  the  family  of  Orleans- 
Longueville. 

Of  these,  Marie,  duchess  de  Nemours,  was  the  last.  It 
was  in  1707  that  she  died.  Her  decease  left  the  principal- 
ity to  William  of  Nassau,  the  usurper  of  the  English  crown, 
who  dying  without  children,  was  succeeded  in  right  of  heir- 
ship  by  Frederic  I.  of  Prussia.  So  all  went  well  until  that 
fever  of  republicanism  broke  out,  to  scare  all  Europe  and  to 
create  so  many  illustrious  patriots,  destined  to  be  well  flogged 
at  home  and  well  feted  in  America. 

Then  did  this  absurd  little  Province  declare  itself  a  Re- 
public, and  scratching  out  the  eagle  of  Prussia,  it  invented 
for  its  colors,  the  very  ugliest  tri-color  that  eyer  entered 
into  the  minds  of  men  to  conceive,  green,  white,  and  red. 

Behold  its  history  up  to  Pynnshurst's  visit.  The  city  is 
still  royalist  in  heart.  On  all  the  better  houses  you  see 
shields  of  armor  in  the  absurdest  heraldry,  metal  charged 
upon  metal  ;  gem,  planet^  and  color  jumbled  up  amaz- 


Half  the  population  are  noble  ;  which  it  is  not  hard  to 
be.  This  is  the  process.  One  buys  a  little  vineyard  and 
calls  it  la  morue,  Bourdon,  or  F  Oie,  and  after  that  is  noble  ; 
for  he  calls  himself  de  la  morue,  de  Bourdon,  or  de  V  Oie, 
and  who  does  not  know  that  every  "  de"  is  noble. 

The  peasant  men  may  lift  their  hats  as  they  pass  you  ; 
but  the  female  servants  and  paysannes  may  not  salute  you 


ALPS.  71 

in  the  streets,  and  must  turn  out  into  the  mud,  till  your 
high  mightiness  shall  have  passed  by  upon  the  side-walk. 

"  We  all  have  our  little  foibles,"  said  the  Frenchman 
when  he  made  a  fricassee  of  his  grandmother's  head  ;  and 
some  may  be  excused  to  the  Neuchatelois ;  but  to  Hugh 
Pynnshurst,  nursed,  if  in  old  Norman  prejudice,  yet  in  old 
Norman  courtesy,  this  fashion  was  a  very  wretched  one. 

In  a  few  days  Hugh  had  visited  the  Salle  du  Chateau, 
and  looked  at  all  the  armories  of  all  the  counts  and  gover- 
nors, an  admirable  collection ;  he  had  seen  the  little  picture 
gallery,  and  learned  by  heart  the  beautiful  parade  by  the 
lake  ;  he  had  looked  at  the  Museum  of  Natural  History  ; 
he  had  laughed  at  the  fountains,  which  are  all  of  one  kind, 
to  wit,  a  column  with  two  spouts,  upon  the  top  of  which  is 
an  iron  griffin  or  a  stone  man-at-arms  ;  at  the  foot  of  which 
are  chattering  bright-eyed  girls,  washing  in  the  basin  of 
water. 

And  when  he  had  seen  Neuchatel,  he  turned  to  the 
environs. 

But  before  we  lose  him  from  the  dusty  streets,  let  him 
tell  us  what  he  saw  on  Low  Sunday  or  the  Sunday  after 
Easter.  This  then  is  the  fete. 

On  the  Sunday  after  Easter,  so  soon  as  sermon  is  finished, 
the  public  buildings  are  decorated  with  flags,  and  the  peo- 
ple gather  in  the  place  by  the  Gymnase.  Then  comes  a 
long  procession  led  by  a  man  in  a  long  white  wig,  and 


72  PYNNSHURST. 

clothed  in  gaudy  colored  rags,  who  dances  with  all  sorts  of 
absurd  gestures  to  the  music  of  a  dozen  instruments. 

Next  follows  a  troop  of  mummers  on  horseback,  clothed 
as  Turks,  as  ancient  men-at-arms  in  woollen  painted  to  look 
like  armor;  as  circus  clowns,  as  anything  which  fancy  may 
suggest. 

On  their  arrival  the  game  of  the  day  begins.  One  Turk 
takes  up  his  position  at  twenty  yards  from  a  stand  whereon 
is  placed  a  pannier  full  of  eggs.  Behind  him  is  another 
pannier  empty.  His  duty  is  to  fill  the  latter  from  the  con- 
tents of  the  former,  taking  one  egg  at  a  time,  while  a  second 
Turk  accompanied  by  two  horsemen,  can  run  a  mile  and 
back  holding  a  handkerchief  between  his  teeth.  And  he 
who  gets  through  first,  wins  all  the  glory  of  the  day. 

This  time  the  runner  won.  And,  after  much  hurraing,  his 
guards  convoyed  him  to  the  cabaret  where  cherry  brandy 
and  sour  wine  put  them  in  condition  to  dance ;  and  the 
dancing  excited  them  to  patriotic  songs  and  bowlings  far 
into  Monday  morning.  Then  they  reeled  home,  and  rose  to 
their  labor  late  in  the  day. 

That  evening  there  was  an  arrival,  and  as  Pynnshurst 
entered  the  hotel,  there  stepped  from  the  carriage  a  young 
man  apparently  in  ill  health,  and  a  lady  who  looked  like  his 
sister. 


u. 

FIRST    COMMUNION. 

PYNNSHURST  was  armed  with  a  letter  for  the  Cure  of  the 
city  and  its  neighborhood.  He  had  seen  him  in  the  church, 
and  now  started  out  to  find  him  at  home.  He  found  him 
then,  pastor  of  fourteen  hundred  souls,  scattered  far  and 
wide  among  the  mountains,  and  as  he  had  plenty  of  time 
to  cultivate  the  acquaintance,  he  did  so. 

Little  time  had  the  good  man  for  his  labors  of  love. 
Three  services  on  Sunday,  two  of  them  with  sermons  in 
French  or  German ;  then  catechism ;  then  long  laborious 
hours  in  the  confessional,  with  penitents  to  guide  in  the  two 
tongues  above  mentioned,  in  Italian,  in  Romanz  patois  of 
Fribourg,  in  French  patois  of  Jura,  in  German  patois  of 
Berne.  A  minor  Mezzofanti,  hiding  his  light  for  God's  ser- 
vice, under  a  bushel. 
4 


74  PYNN8HURST. 

Yesterday  upon  the  mountain  with  the  sacrament  for  a 
dying  vigneron  :  to-day  to  S.  Blaise  with  a  waggon,  to  bring 
back  some  burnt  out  widow,  some  sick  and  desolate  orphan  ; 
to-morrow  to  the  marshes,  with  a  remedy  for  the  laborer 
with  the  fever.  Ever  good  and  ever  busy,  his  life  is  prayer 
and  labor.  Many  do  not  know  thee,  nor  regard  thee  upon 
earth,  my  Cure,  but  the  angels  are  watching  thee  from  Heaven. 

Gradually  Hugh  began  to  take  an  interest  in  this  work, 
and  loved  to  see  the  good  man  in  his  schools,  or  in  the 
courtyard  surrounded  by  the  children.  Another  thing  was 
this,  that  he  met  there  often  the  lady  whose  arrival  he  had 
seen,  and  ripened  his  acquaintance  into  friendship. 

Latterly  the  Cure  had  been  very  busy.  The  solemn 
Paschal  time  was  here ;  and  when  its  many  labors  had 
passed,  there  were  new  ones  to  undertake ;  so  that  he 
scarcely  had  a  moment  now  for  conversation. 

"  What  are  those  boys  and  girls  running  here  so  often 
for,  Cure  ?"  said  Hugh  one  morning. 

"  To  prepare  for  their  first  communion,"  said  the  Cure. 

"  But  your  preparation  is  rather  severe,  is  it  not  ?" 

"  No,  not  too  much  so  ;  we  have  two  catechisms  a  day  ; 
and  since  Easter  Sunday  our  little  sermons  of  instruction 
and  especial  preparation.  To-morrow  (2d  Sunday  after 
Easter)  they  receive  the  Holy  Communion.  It  is  a  pleasant 
sight  for  die  eyes  of  the  stranger,  and  a  dear  one  for  the 
heart  of  the  Cure.  Tenez  f  What  time  did  you  get  up 
this  morning?" 


FIKST    COMMUNION.  75 

"  About  two  hours  ago,"  said  Hugh. 

"  That  is  at  nine  o'clock.  Look  here,"  and  he  drew  Hugh 
towards  the  window.  "  Do  you  see  the  old  woman  there 
crossing  the  court  ?" 

"  Yes ;  how  much  bent  she  is." 

"  She  had  need  to  be,  my  friend ;  she  bears  eighty-four 
years  on  those  stooping  shoulders.  And  this  morning  she 
has  carried  them  seven  good  leagues,  nearly  twenty  of  your 
English  miles,  Monsieur,  walking  bravely  on  foot,  to  see  her 
grandchild  make  his  first  communion,  and  to  kneel  at  the 
altar  beside  him." 

Hugh  made  no  answer,  but  only  turned  his  face  aside. 
It  is  a  good  food  they  get  here,  those  children,  beginning 
life  with  the  very  Bread  of  Life  ;  the  food  for  pure  young 
souls.  Yet  equally  good  for  the  ancient  yonder,  bowed  be- 
neath many  years.  It  is  a  passport  for  the  youth,  as  he 
passes  the  gulf  that  flows  between  the  child  and  the  man. 
It  is  the  staff  of  the  ancient,  as  she  goes,  lowly  stooping, 
through  the  portals  of  the  grave  on  her  way  to  the  city  of 

God! 

And  on  the  day  appointed  they  gathered  in  the  court  of 

the  cure  ;  the  boys  all  neatly  dressed,  the  poor  ones  at  the 
Cure's  expense,  and  all  in  beaver  hats  and  white  gloves ; 
and  the  girls  in  white,  as  young  girls  ought  to  be,  with  long 
veils  covering  their  heads  and  faces,  and  with  their  eyes  cast 
down. 

And    the   good    cure   in   soutane  and  sash  led   them 


76  PYNNSIIURST. 

along  the  Faubourg  to  the  church  ;  where  at  the  door  each 
one  received  a  lighted  wax-candle,  which  he  was  to  bear  in 
his  hand  till  the  Gospel  had  been  read. 

Hugh  kneeled  behind  this  little  group  of  thirty  lights  in 
the  small  Norman  chapel;  the  high  altar  wreathed  with 
flowers,  sparkling  with  lights,  bore  on  it  there,  enshrined  in 
rayed  gold,  that  Mystery,  which  is  comprehensible  by  one 
thing  only,  namely,  by  the  Catholic's  heart !  From  the 
wall  at  the  side,  the  Mother  and  the  Child  smile  on  the  young 
communicants.  Hugh  reads  upon  the  forehead  of  the  Child, 
and  on  the  lips,  "  Suffer  the  little  ones  to  come  unto  me," 
and  he  prays  for  a  child's  heart. 

The  preparatory  service  is  over,  the  lights,  save  one,  are 
extinguished.  The  pastor  is  in  the  pulpit  preaching  to  his 
children.  And  as  he  tells  them  of  the  Babe  of  Bethlehem, 
and  how  for  them  he  suffered  and  was  slain ;  and  how  the 
infinite  deeps  of  His  great  heart  are  full  of  tenderest  love  for 
them  ;  the  children's  heads  bow  down,  and  now  and  then  a 
low  sob  sounds  through  the  stillness. 

The  sermon  is  over,  and  the  sacrifice  has  been  offered  ;  and 
the  doors  of  the  chancel  are  flung  open,  while,  two  by  two, 
the  children  pass  within  the  rails  to  kneel  at  the  good  man's 
feet,  and  to  receive  for  the  first  time  the  sacrament.  Then 
back  with  hands,  clasped,  and  with  downcast  eyes,  to  kneel, 
each  in  his  place,  and  pray  for  grace  to  continue  as  they 
had  begun. 

And  then  the  priest  kneeled  at  the  foot  of  the  altar,  and 


FIRST    COMMUNION.  77 

the  sweet  voices  of  the  choir  uplifted  that  unequalled  Psalm, 
"  Quam  dilecta  tabernacula  Tua,  Domine  Deus  Virtu- 
turn"  "  How  lovely  are  thy  dwelling,  O  Lord  of  Hosts." 
And  the  young  man  put  his  face  between  his  hands  and 
wept  in  silence. 

Then  as  he  raised  his  eyes,  the  priest  was  bowed  before 
the  consecrated  Host,  and  the  swell  of  the  organ  rose  higher, 
and  a  fuller  strain  soared  from  the  choristers  to  the  words  of 
the  "  Tantum  ergo?  It  was  the  Benediction  of  the  Sacra- 
ment. 

And  so  in  a  little  while  it  was  over.  The  priest  had 
gone,  and  one  by  one,  most  of  the  worshippers  departed. 
One  or  two  still  knelt  in  distant  parts  of  the  church  ;  and  the 
deep  stillness  sunk  upon  his  spirit  like  the  coming  of  a 
pleasant  night. 

In  the  evening  after  vespers  had  been  sung,  it  was  a 
solemn  and  a  beautiful  thing  to  see  the  children  once  more 
entering  the  chancel,  and  with  their  hands  upon  the  Holy 
Gospels  renewing  all  the  vows  of  Baptism. 


m. 

C  L  E  M  E  N  C  E. 

THAT  evening  Hugh  walked  upon  the  promenade,  while  the 
sun,  going  down  behind  the  Jura,  flooded  the  Alps  and  the 
lake  with  golden  lustre.  There  was  a  light  south  wind, 
enough  to  chase  the  mist  clouds  from  the  summit,  and  every 
peak  was  crowned  and  robed  in  glory,  and  that  ineffable, 
indefinable  calm  of  summer  sunset  spread  itself  over  all. 

The  lady  was  with  him. 

[And  here  let  me  say,  once  for  all,  that  there  is  no  note 
of  time  in  Pynnshurst's  journals ;  whether  he  were  ten  years 
or  six  months  in  one  place,  no  one  can  tell ;  summer,  and 
autumn,  and  winter,  and  spring  sketches  are  huddled 
together.] 

The  lady  was  with  him.     She  was  saying : 


C/.KMENCE.  79 

"  You  have  been  so  kind  to  my  poor  brother,  that  you  do 
not  and  cannot  seem  any  longer  a  stranger." 

"  You  are  very  good,"  he  answered,  "  and  believe  me  that 
I  have  felt  myself  more  closely  drawn  to  you,  than  to  any 
one  for  many  a  long  day." 

"  You  are  a  kind  of  misanthrope,  are  you  not  ?" 

"  Nothing  on  earth  is  so  far  from  me.  I  love  all  my  kind. 
But,"  he  added,  very  sadly,  "  whatsoever  takes  an  interest  in 
me  is  afflicted,  and  if  anything  loves  me  it  dies." 

There  was  something  very  mournful  in  the  loneness  of  this 
young  man,  seemingly  somewhat  sentimental,  foolish,  and 
young-imitator-of-Byronish,  and  yet  withal,  he  was  so  un- 
,selfish,  so  old-fashionedly  chivalric,  that  the  lady  saw  that 
he  was  out  of  the  sphere  of  common  consolation ;  and  that 
his  grief  was  not  sentiment  but  passion,  so  she  was  silent. 

A  few  words  now  of  her.  Clemence  de  Mortemart  was  the 
daughter  of  one  of  those  ancient  nobles  of  France  whose 
heads  fell  on  the  guillotine.  Poor  and  tradeless,  his  family 
had  lived  in  England,  until  the  Restoration,  when  the  mother 
and  the  son  had  recovered  a  little  property  at  home,  in  tiino 
for  the  former  to  die  as  she  had  earnestly  desired,  in  the  air 
of  her  fair  France. 

There  was  another  sister  left,  who  was  won  by  a  light 
countryman  in  England ;  and  forsaken  when  her  fortune 
was  proved  to  be  so  small  in  France.  Her  brother,  fiery  and 
proud,  yielded  to  his  sense  of  honor,  and  while  he  avenged 


80  PYNNSHURST. 

the  wrong  which  his  sister  pardoned,  he  was  shot  through 
the  lungs. 

Cured,  in  appearance,  of  the  wound,  he  always  remained 
delicate,  and  at  the  first  exposure,  took  a  violent  cold, 
which  passed  into  consumption.  The  broken  heart  of  his 
sister  was  at  peace. 

The  young  baron,  and  all  that  remained  of  his  family, 
Clemence,  had  come  now  to  Switzerland,  more  to  divert 
him,  by  satisfying  his  ardent  love  for  scenery,  than  with  any 
hope  of  improvement  in  his  health. 

How  touching  it  was  to  see  the  fragile  Clemence,  nursing 
him  with  a  mother's  love,  with  all  a  woman's  unselfish,  ten- 
der gentleness. 

Whether  it  were  to  find  fresh  flowers  for  him  in  the  pub- 
lic gardens,  or  to  read  to  him  in  the  bad  weather ;  or  to  wrap 
him  up  for  his  short  excursions  ;  or  to  sing  to  him  songs  of 
the  long  ago,  or  to  arrange  his  cushions  when  he  grew  weary 
and  lay  down ;  she  was  always  the  same,  watchful,  unselfish, 
and  gentle. 

Hugh  thought  that  a  sister's  love  must  be  somewhat  like 
the  love  of  one's  angel.  God  sends  them  both  to  us. 

The  invalid  took  at  once  to  Pynnshurst,  craved  his  visits 
every  day,  watched  for  him  at  the  window,  and  grew  hap- 
pier when  he  came.  Above  all,  he  took  pleasure  in  seeing 
him  aid  Clemence,  and  soon  framed,  in  fancy,  a  happy 
future  for  her  when  he  should  have  passed  away  from  her 
?ide.  He  would  leave  her,  he  thought,  to  his  friend. 


CLEMENCE.  81 

For  Hugh  had  laid  aside  his  reserve,  and  coldness,  and 
pride,  and  showed  himself  in  his  own  frank,  faithful  charac- 
ter. For  he  forgot  all  fear,  all  sensitiveness  beside  the  inva- 
lid, who  lay  there  so  feeble  and  so  loving.  Hi#  frailty 
asked  for  confidence  ;  he  was  too  near  God  to  distrust. 

"  Oh  Clemence !"  he  cried,  as  they  entered  his  room  at 
the  hotel,  "  I  am  half  inclined  to  scold  you  for  running 
away  while  I  was  asleep,  but  I  pardon  you  in  consideration 
of  your  bringing  back  Pynnshurst." 

"  Well,  Baron,-  thanks  for  my  welcome.  How  are  you 
to-day  ?" 

"  0,  pretty  well  for  a  prisoner,  but  sighing  always  for 
green  fields.  My  tyrant  there,"  smiling  at  Clemence,  "  re- 
fuses to  let  me  out  of  the  house,  or  even  to  have  a  window 
open." 

"  Well,  but  if  the  fine  weather  continues,"  said  his  sister, 
"you  shall  visit  all  the  lions  under  Mr.  Pynnshurst's  guid- 
ance." 

"  Are  you  a  good  cicerone,  Pynnshurst,"  asked  the  young 
baron,  "  and  where  will  you  take  us  ?" 

"  To  the  first  part  of  your  question,  yes ;  I  am  becoming 
prodigiously  learned  in  Neuchatel  antiquities.  For  the 
second,  I  will  take  you  every  where.  To  the  ancient 
church  of  our  Lady,  and  the  modern  Temple-haut ;  to  the 
Chateau,  to  the  Trou  du  Seyon." 

"  What  may  that  be  ?"  asked  the  invalid,  and  "  Come,  Mr. 
4* 


82  PYNNSHURST. 

Pytinshurst,  give  us  a  specimen  of  your  abilities  at  once," 
added  Clemence. 

"  You  must  know  then,"  said  Pynnshurst,  with  dignity, 
"  that  6%  to  the  south  there  where  the  mountains  are  watch- 
ing the  valleys  at  their  feet,  a  certain  torrent  took  it  into  its 
head  to  become  a  river,  and  to  call  itself  the  Seyon.  It 
fulfilled  its  intentions,  and  came  running  down  along  the 
valley  and  through  the  city,  but  very  gently  and  sagely, 
and  like  a  good  little  river. 

"  But  one  October  in  1579,  it  rained  as  if  for  a  second 
deluge ;  the  early  snows  were  melted  on  the  hills  ;  the  mill 
streams  were  all  swollen ;  each  rivulet  became  a  stream,  and 
every  trickling  mountain  threau  grew  to  a  torrent.  The 
dams  and  dikes  were  swept  away,  the  embankments  over- 
flowed, and  all  the  floods  poured  into  little  Seyon,  and 
increased  it  to  a  Danube.  Swollen  and  angry  it  came 
warring  on. 

"  It  caught,  as  it  passed,  the  mills  of  Valangin,  and  the 
wood  upon  its  banks,  and  bursting  into  Neuchatel  tore  down 
a  bridge,  a  Chateau  tower,  and  carried  off  great  piles  of 
wood  heaped  up  for  fuel. 

"  Then  all  this  wreck  turned  it  from  its  bed ;  and  it  rolled 
fiercely  down  the  Rue  des  Moulins  there ;  the  houses  were 
crushed  before  it ;  another  bridge  was  added  to  its  mass  of 
timbers.  The  streets  were  filled  with  water  up  to  the 
second  floor  of  the  houses ;  cattle  and  horses,  still  tied  to 
their  racks,  were  struggling  in  the  flood  ;  women  and  men 


CLEMENCE.  83 

and  little  children  were  carried  shrieking  to  destruction ;  to 
be  dashed  amid  the  timbers  and  whirled  round  and  round 
in  the  flood. 

"  One  mother  floated  on  a  piece  of  roof,  her  infant  in  her 
arms.  Gradually  as  the  frail  support  grew  soaked  with 
water,  and  she  felt  it  sinking  with  her  weight,  she  laid  her 
little  one  in  the  centre,  and  kissed  it,  and  slipped  gently  offj 
and  so  was  swept  away. 

"  Then  the  waters  found  their  way  into  the  lake,  and  all 
was  quiet  again.  Fifty  thousand  crowns  worth  of  property 
was  lost.  So  they  bored  a  tunnel  through  the  hill,  five 
hundred  feet  in  length,  with  three  stout  falls  of  twenty-one 
feet  each,  and  now  the  Seyon  goes  quietly  to  the  lake,  by 
the  artificial  channel  prepared  by  the  Neuchatelois.  My 
story  is  told." 

"Well  done,"  said  the  Baron,  "I  employ  you  from 
to-day ;  and  for  your  pay,  Clemence  shall  smile  on  you ; 
and  your  heart  will  be  rewarded  by  its  kindness  to  the  sick 
and  useless  friend." 


IV. 

SlST  ER-LOVE. 

FOB  some  days  after  the  scenes  of  the  last  chapter,  the 
weather  was  abominable ;  and  one  must  go  to  Switzerland, 
to  perceive  fully  what  abominable  weather  is. 

Cold  vapors  rose  from  the  lake ;  cold  mists  descended 
from  the  hills ;  la  bise,  (which  is  a  wind  formed  of  needles 
and  grated  ice,)  howled  from  the  Eastern  Alps.  It  drizzled  ; 
it  hailed  ;  it  squalled ;  it  froze ;  it  thawed.  Now  and  then 
the  sun  would  burst  gloriously  forth,  and  lure  you  from  the 
chimney  corner ;  but  the  moment  he  got  you  out  of  doors, 
he  treated  you  as  your  sweet-heart  treats  you,  when  she  finds 
a  richer  lover ;  he  deserted  you ;  popped  behind  a  cloud, 
rolled  himself  up  in  mists,  and  gave  you  over  to  the  mercy 
of  a  wind  that  bit  through  flesh  and  bone,  into  the  very 
marrow. 


SISTER-LOVE.  85 

Leon  de  Mortemart  drooped  like  a  flower,  beneath  the  in- 
fluence of  such  weather.  A  violent  cough  came  on,  and  he 
seemed  sinking  fast  into  the  grave.  Pynnshurst  was  always 
with  him,  and  watched  him  in  turns  with  his  sister. 
Nothing  could  be  gentler  than  the  Baron ;  never  mur- 
muring, never  complaining,  receiving  every  service  with 
a  sweet  smile,  and  praying  in  the  intervals  of  his  cough. 

And  Clemence,  whose  life  seemed  bound  in  his ;  who 
seemed  to  decay  with  his  decay,  was  so  strong  in  her  feeble- 
ness. Nothing  could  weary  her  sister-heart;  all  day  she 
kept  beside  her  brother ;  bathing  his  hot  forehead ;  or 
sometimes  laying  his  head  upon  her  bosom  and  guarding  it 
there  for  hours. 

She  sat  by  his  bed-side  through  the  long  nights,  until 
Pynnshurst  persuaded  her  to  yield  her  place  to  him.  He 
thought  she  slept  at  such  times ;  but  one  night  after  a  violent 
coughing  fit  of  Leon,  as  he  opened  the  door  for  some  pur- 
pose, he  saw  there  the  sister  on  her  knees  in  the  hall,  with 
her  sweet  face  bowed  between  her  hands,  pleading  and  weep- 
ing for  the  sufferer. 

And  Leon,  as  he  saw  Hugh  Pynnshurst  aiding  her, 
followed  them  with  his  eyes  as  they  moved  around  the 
room,  and  wove  his  own  little  romance  about  them,  and  be- 
came more  happy  as  to  his  sister's  future,  as  he  fancied  that 
Pynnshurst  would  take  care  of  it. 

But  at  last  the  dreary  days  were  gone,  and  the  Spring 
appeared  to  have  at  last  arrived  in  earnest,  and  with  the  sun 


86  I'YXNS  HURST. 

light,  and  the  warm  air,  and  the  violets,  and  the  chant  of 
birds,  Leon  seemed  to  recover ;  his  appetite  returned,  his 
cheek  lost  its  transparency,  his  frame  renewed  its  strength ; 
and  at  last  he  was  able  to  go  out  leaning  on  Hugh's  arm. 

By-and-by  they  began  to  make  short  excursions,  some- 
times for  all  day,  sometimes  even  for  two  days. 

One  day  they  started  for  Chaux  de  Fonds,  the  finest  and 
largest  town  in  the  Canton  of  Neuchatel.  One  must  mount 
to  get  there,  and  one  sees  little  except  its  prosperity  when 
there.  It  is  a  place  where  all  the  world  makes  watches, 
with  the  exception,  it  is  true,  of  those  who  are  engaged  in 
the  manufacture  of  clocks.  From  the  date  of  their  inven- 
tion, it  has  been  the  business  of  this  horological  town  to 
furnish  the  world  with  time-pieces.  It  sends  enormous 
annual  cargoes  to  London,  to  Paris,  to  St.  Petersburg,  to 
New  York. 

It  has  one  lion ;  the  memory  of  Jaquet  Droz. 

Jaquet,  honest  man,  was  a  clock-maker  of  the  first  water, 
who,  somewhere  towards  the  end  of  the  sixteenth  century, 
voyaged  to  Madrid.  He  carried  to  Ferdinand  the  Catholic 
a  clock  which  was  the  wonder  of  Europe  for  many  a  day. 

The  king,  who  loved  mechanics,  paid  down  five  hundred 
Louis,  and  all  the  costs  of  journeying  ;  and  when  the  clock 
arrived,  gathered  the  most  illustrious  Seigneurs  of  his  Court, 
to  look  at  its  marvellous  works. 

When  it  struck  the  hour,  a  Shepherd  issued  from  behind 
some  rock,  for  the  clock  was  a  landscape,  and  played  six 


SISTER  LOVE.  87 

different  airs  upon  his  flute,  while  his  dog  fawned  upon  him 
in  a  very  natural  manner. 

"  The  gentleness  of  this  dog,"  said  Droz  to  the  King,  "  is 
not  his  greatest  merit.  He  is  as  faithful  as  affectionate.  If 
your  majesty  will  touch  the  fruit  there  in  that  basket,  placed 
beside  the  shepherd,  you  will  see  his  fidelity." 

The  King  laid  hold  of  an  apple,  and  the  dog  sprung  at 
his  hand,  barking  so  naturally,  that  a  spaniel  in  the  room 
replied  with  great  ferocity,  and  showed  evident  signs  of 
fight.  At  this  the  court  decamped,  crying  out  "  sorcery  !" 
and  there  remained  only  the  King  and  the  Minister  of 
the  Navy. 

"  What  time  is  it  ?"  asked  the  King  of  the  shepherd. 

"  He  understands  no  Spanish,"  said  Droz  ;  "  but  if  your 
majesty  will  be  good  enough  to  put  your  question  in 
French,  he  will  reply  to  it." 

"  Quelle  heure  est-il .?"  said  his  majesty. 

"  Deux  keures"  said  the  shepherd  in  a  barking  voice. 

This  was  too  much  for  the  Minister  of  the  Navy,  who 
decamped  as  fast  as  his  legs  could  carry  him. 

Poor  Jaquet  was  in  danger  of  being  burnt  for  a  sorcerer. 
But  the  Grand  Inquisitor  came  to  visit  the  wonder,  had  it 
all  explained  to  him,  and  acquitted  the  artizan  of  every 
diabolic  connection,  or  of  any  worse  power  than  great  inge- 
nuity. 

Leaving  his  friends  here,  Pynnshurst  went  off  alone  to 
see  a  marvellous  specimen  of  human  ingenuity. 


88  PYNNSHURST. 

A  little  way  from  the  Chaud  de  Fonds,  are  the  subterra- 
nean mills  of  worthy  Jonas  Sandoz,  bourgeois  of  Locle. 
There  is  the  Cul  des  Roches.  Rocks  of  huge  size,  frowning 
on  the  frontier  of  France,  form  an  enormous  basin,  wherein 
are  gathered  all  the  waters  of  the  neighborhood. 

Pines  of  all  heights  and  ages  fringe  the  edges,  and  wild 
peaks  rough  and  precipitous  stand  round  it. 

The  worthy  Jonas  may  not  have  seen  the  beauty  of  this 
scene,  but  he  soon  found  out  wherein  consisted  its  utility. 
He  saw  that  a  portion  of  the  water  escaped  by  a  huge  fis- 
sure in  the  mountain,  and  determined  to  make  it  flow  for 
his  own  proper  profit  and  glory. 

So  here  Hugh  found  himself,  climbing  a  slippery  stair- 
way, feebly  lighted  by  a  few  lamps  suspended  in  these 
obscure  caverns ;  the  roar  of  falling  waters,  the  buzz  of 
wheels,  the  cold  and  humid  air,  and  the  knowledge  that  if 
his  foot  were  to  slip,  he  would  spin  for  two  hundred  feet, 
down  into  la  Chaudiere,  where  the  vexed  torrent  was  boil- 
ing frothily,  made  Hugh's  gripe  a  strong  one,  and  his  step 
not  nearly  so  light  as  usual. 

The  worthy  Jonas  had  followed  the  course  of  the  fissure, 
enlarged  its -caverns,  blasted  the  rocks  which  opposed  his 
progress,  cleared  it  from  the  rubbish  of  ages,  and  finally 
succeeded  in  building  four  mills,  the  one  above  the  other. 

So  that  now  the  Cul  des  Roches  pours  a  portion  of  its 
waters  upon  the  uppermost  wheels  ;  passes  from  them  to  a 
second,  and  so  on  through  all  the  four ;  then  the  vexed 


SISTER-LOVE.  89 

slave  dashes  down  into  a  natural  gulf  below,  and  foams 
away  its  wrath,  and  so  glides  peaceably  along. 

From  thence  he  started  up  towards  the  Chasseral  to  see 
the  end  of  Jura,  and  the  commencement  of  the  Vosges ;  for 
Chasseral  and  Chasseron  are  the  ends  of  Jura,  the  one  upon 
the  edge  of  France  and  Berne,  the  other  far  away  down 
in  Vaud.  It  was  the  famous  Saut  de  Doubs  which  invited 
him. 

That  interesting  stream  rises  at  the  foot  of  Mont  Rixon, 
flows  northward,  turns  a  sudden  corner,  and  runs  swiftly 
south  by  Mortau,  where  the  cataract  is,  by  Pontarlier, 
BesanQon,  Dole,  and  empties  in  the  Saone  by  Verdun  ;  or, 
at  least,  the  geography  says  so. 

Now  Mr.  Pynnshurst,  starting  from  the  village  of  the 
Brennets,  went  to  Mortau  to  see  the  fall.  As  he  went  by 
water,  it  may  be  necessary  to  add  that  he  hired  a  boat,  for  it 
was  too  deep  to  wade,  and  too  far  to  swim.  His  method  of 
describing  a  cataract  is  so  eminently  absurd  that  I  have  pre- 
served it  intact. 

The  clouds  which  hang  above  the  Jura  had  a  daughter 

o  o 

called  La  Doubs,  and  they  wedded  her  long  ago  to  the  Spirit 
of  the  Mountains  below  there.  And  in  the  daytime  they 
poured  down  a  tribute  of  snow  and  heavy  rains,  but  from  the 
clear  sky  of  the  evening  the  gentlest  dews  fell  silently,  and 
the  bride  descended  with  the  dews. 

Alas,  no  more  was  her  soft  couch  'mid  the  luxurious 
clouds,  her  veil  no  longer  the  snowy  mists  of  morning ;  but 


90  PYNNSHURST. 

her  bed  was  of  the  rough  rock,  her  pathway  through  gloomy 
forests,  over  a  broken  course. 

And  the  Spirit  of  the  Mountain  was  wild,  and  he  chased 
her  from  his  granite  home,  through  the  rugged  passes  of  the 
hills,  and  flung  her  from  the  heights  by  Mortau  down  the 
savage  shelves  of  an  eighty-four-feet  long  descent. 

There  her  gentle  spirit  waked,  and  rising  in  a  column  of 
white  vapor,  which  the  sunbeam  decorated  with  rainbows, 
she  rose,  floating  slowly,  to  her  cloud  home  on  high. 

But  they  dared  not  keep  her  there,  and  now  each  day  she 
descends  in  tears  to  the  Rixon's  foot,  to  be  chased  away 
again ;  to  rise  again  towards  Heaven,  and  again  to  be  repulsed. 
She  is  like  Moore's  Peri  who  could  not  get  in,  and  unlike 
Sterne's  starling,  who  "  could  not  get  out." 

So  ends  the  description  of  Mr.  Pynnshurst,  who  then  left 
the  spirit  to  her  fate,  and  went  his  way  back  to  Chaux  de 
Fonds,  where  Clemence  and  the  baron  were  awaiting  him. 

"  Where  do  we  go  in  the  morning,  Pynnshurst,  if  we  be 
not  transformed  into  clocks  or  watches  to-night." 

"To  the  Val  de  Ruz,  Baron,  where  you  will  find  the 
ancient  Chateau  of  Valangin,  guarding  the  loveliest  valley  in 
the  world.  The  Ruz  runs  through  it,  and  four  and  twenty 
villages  dot  its  sides." 

"  Is  that  the  Valangin  which  we  find  on  the  Prussian 
coinage  ?"  asked  Clemence. 

"  Precisely,"  said  Hugh,  "  and  if  you  would  have  an  anec- 


SISTEK-LOVE.  91 

dote  of  its  conquest,  you  have  nothing  to  do  but  to  lis- 
ten." 

"  Hear,  hear  !"  said  the  baron. 

"  The  Seigneurs  of  Valangin,"  said  Pynnshurst,  "  were  in- 
dependent once  upon  a  time ;  and  were  constantly  bother- 
ing, or  being  bothered  by  their  neighbors  of  Neuchatel. 
Jean  and  Thierry  d'Arberg,  Counts  of  Valangin,  were  the 
last  who  ruled  it  independently. 

"For  after  many  a  difficulty  with  Rodolph  V.,  then 
Count  of  Neuchatel,  they  agreed  to  swear  homage  to  him. 
But  just  as  they  got  ready,  Rodolph  and  his  adherents  were 
excommunicated ;  and  the  brothers  began  a  war  which 
ended  in  the  battle  of  Coffhme,  where  both  were  taken  pri- 
soners. 

"  They  were  condemned  to  death ;  but  pardoned  for  the 
payment  of  two  thousand  livres,  the  resignation  of  their  Cha- 
teau ;  the  yielding  of  their  banners,  and  the  donation  of  two 
heads  in  massive  silver,  which  were  to  rest  in  the  church  of 
our  Lady  as  monuments  of  their  crime. 

"  There  rested  the  two  heads  covered  with  dust  till  1530, 
when  they  broke  all  the  images,  and  burned  the  pictures. 
And  a  quiet  old  fellow  put  these  two  heads  into  a  basket, 
saying  to  the  rest : 

"  '  I  will  amuse  myself  at  home  by  breaking  these  two  pa- 
pist relics  with  my  children.' 

"  From  that  day  to  this  they  have  never  been  heard  of." 

In   the   morning,  after  breakfast,  they  called  for  their 


92  PYNNSHURST. 

vehicle  and  started  for  the  Val  de  Ruz,  on  their  way  to 
Neuchatel.  So  back  they  came  along  the  dusty  road  to  the 
fork  whereat  they  must  angle  off  to  Valangin,  the  key  of 
the  bright  valley. 

The  fine  old  Chateau  lords  it  over  the  village  with  its 
huge  round  redoubts,  and  mighty  walls,  within  which  the 
canton's  mativais  sujets  are  supported  at  the  expense  of  the 
government.  A  small  tin  weather-cock,  painted  with  the 
ugly  republican  tricolor,  serves  now  for  feudal  banner  ;  a 
fellow  in  a  corded  coat  is  the  only  Castellan ;  some  small 
girls  with  large  feet  and  noses  much  turned  up,  represent' 
the  ancient  servitors ;  and  the  old  baron  is  replaced  by  a 
council  of  thick-headed  Bourgeois,  whose  sole  resemblance 
to  the  ancient  lords  is  that  they  are  excessively  annoying  to 
their  neighbors. 

Leaving  their  vehicle  at  the  Lion  d'Or,  kept  by  a 
cockney  Englishman  who  has  caught  an  attack  of  female 
Neuchateloise  from  which  he  will  never  probably  recover, 
they  mounted  a  slight  eminence  behind  the  village,  crowned 
with  a  beautiful  pine  grove,  and  thence  they  looked  along 
the  exquisite  scene  that  rolled  its  panoramic  beauty  out 
before  them. 

The  valley  lies  between  the  Chaumont  and  some  other 
peaks  of  the  Jura.  Its  green  and  undulating  bed,  dotted 
with  fair  white  villages  and  burnished  by  the  sunshine,  is  too 
lovely  to  describe. 

Here  is  a  waving  grain  field,  there  a  low  knoll  where  the 


SISTER-LOVE.  93 

long  fringes  of  the  larch-grove  rustle  in  the  breeze,  and 
there  again  a  velvet  lawn  starred  with  the  red-bosomed 
marguerite.  The  dark  pines  stand  silent  on  the  heights  of 
the  surrounding  hills ;  but  in  the  stillness  of  the  day,  one 
hears  the  low  roar  of  the  Seyon  as  it  rolls  its  waters  through 
the  wild  gorge  which  bounds  them,  on  its  way  to  the  lake 
of  Neuchatel. 

That  gorge  is  very  American,  such  as  you  find  in  the 
Southern  States ;  deep,  wild,  and  rocky  sided,  robed  with 
rich  evergreens,  and  the  thick  vegetation  of  unnumbered 
vines,  ivy  and  columbine,  and  briar  rose. 

Sweet  voiced  birds  dart  about  there  and  sing ;  lazy  snails 
carry  their  habitations  with  them,  the  Arabs  of  testaceous 
life ;  and  the  black  leech-like  limagon  crawls  slowly  through 
the  grass  blades,  leaving  like  some  human  tongues,  defile- 
ment upon  all  he  touches. 

In  the  village  of  Chezard  over  there,  they  show  an  estate 
of  considerable  size  which  only  pays  half  tax,  by  reason  of  a 
curious  piece  of  good  nature  on  the  part  of  Guillemet  de 
Chalans,  Countess  of  Valangin. 

The  old  lady,  at  eighty-four  years  of  age,  was  a  wondrous 
favorite  with  her  people,  perhaps,  because  she  was  very 
garrulous,  and  loved  to  chatter  with  the  peasants. 

One  day  some  good  folks  at  Chezard  brought  to  her 
feet  their  "  lowly  supplication  and  petition,"  that  her  high- 
ness would  be  pleased  not  to  tax  them  any  more. 

"  But,  my  children,  I  must  live  also,"  replied  the  old  lady, 


94  I'VNXSHfKST. 

"  and  I  don't  know  how  to  manage  it,  if  you  pay  me  no 
taxes.  But  this  I  will  do  for  you  ;  I  will  yield  forever,  the 
half  of  my  right,  to  so  much  ground  as  I  can  walk  round  in 
a  day." 

They  thought  that  she  was  mocking  at  them,  but  no- 
thing was  farther  from  her  good-natured  heart. 

For  one  morning,  rising  with  the  dawn,  she  took  her 
staff,  and  a  stout  servant  to  lean  upon,  and  started.  Three 
or  four  times  she  stopped  to  rest  and  to  refresh  herself,  but 
by  night  she  had  encircled  a  really  large  district  when  one 
considers  her  age. 

At  night  in  the  Chateau  hall,  she  assembled  the  peasants, 
and  confirmed  the  gift. 

"  I  am  very  weary,  mes  enfans"  she  said,  "  but  very  well 
content.  Though,  thank  Heaven,  I  have  done  pretty  well 
for  eighty  years,  yet  if  God  had  only  lent  me  the  legs  I  had 
at  twenty,  for  this  day  only,  I  should  have  won  a  blessing 
for  the  rest  of  my  days." 

"  And  we  too,  noble  lady,"  said  a  peasant,  "  but  if  your 
legs  are  old,  your  heart  is  young,  as  you  have  proved  to  us. 
God  bless  you,  and  return  to  you  here  and  in  Heaven,  the 
kindness  you  have  shown  to  us  and  to  our  children." 

So  won  they  their  privilege,  and  the  good  old  lady  died 
at  the  age  of  eighty-six  in  the  odor  of  sanctity. 


SISTEU-LOVE.  95 

Then  fast  they  rattled  down  the  side  of  the  Chaumont, 
keeping  the  edge  of  the  gorge  of  the  Seyon,  and  gazing  at 
the  panorama  of  the  Alps,  or  the  quaint  roofs  of  Neucha-tel 
which  lay  beneath  them,  basking  in  the  sunshine  and 
bathed  by  the  lake. 


V. 

MORE   SIGHT-SEE  IN  o. 

WHITHER  leads  the  road,  northward  3"  asked  De  Morte- 
mart,  one  morning. 

"  To  Berne,  to  Bale,  to  Fribourg,  and  several  other 
places,"  said  Pynnshurst. 

"  Let  us  ride  along  it  to-day — What  say  you,  Clemence  ?" 

"  I  say  assent,  Leon,  if  you  feel  well  enough.  We  will  go 
to  the  Lake  of  Bienne." 

"  Ah,  precisely,  and  to  Rousseau's  Island,  and  so  forth," 
said  the  Baron.  "  Did  you  ever  read  '  Julia]  Pynnshurst  ?" 

"  No,  I  have  tried  ten  times,  but  never  could  succeed. 
Whence  comes  its  reputation  ?  To  a  dull  Englisher  like  me 
it  seems  disgustingly  stupid." 

"  And  to  a  lively  Frenchman  like  me,"  said  Leon,  "  it 


MO  HE    STGHT-SEKIXO.  (<  t 

only  seems  stupidly  disgusting.     Pass  we  the  Philosopher; 
Clemence,  dear,  ring  for  the  carriage." 

'•  One  has  already  been  here,  but  was  sent  back,  Leon,  it 
was  one  of  those  side-foremost  affairs." 

"  A  Neuchatel  Crab,"  said  Pynnshurst — "  Who  could 
have  invented  a  carriage  to  go  sideways  ?" 

"  It  was  discovered  by  a  man  with  a  wry  neck,"  said 
Clemence. 

"  Thank  you,  Mademoiselle,  for  the  information." 

"  La  Voiture  de  Madame?  said  the  servant  at  the 
door. 

So  thjy  started  off  along  the  road,  through  dull  S. 
Blaise,  where  the  muck-heaps  lie  at  the  front  doors,  and  the 
church  clock  gives  the  much-attended-to  notification — Fugit 
hora  brevis.  They  put  it  in  Latin  that  the  people  may  take 
more  note  of  it. 

Passing  S.  Blaise  they  turned  to  the  right  and  trotted 
along  the  yellow  road. 

"  What  is  that  pond  ?"  asked  Clemence. 

"  Pond  !  Mademoiselle !     That  is  the  lake  of  S.  Blaise." 

"  But  it  is  not  a  hundred  feet  in  diameter." 

"  Still  it  is  a  lake ;  it  is  five  hundred  feet  in  depth,  that 
little  sheet  there,  and  has  an  awful  warning  for  all  young 
ladies,  Mademoiselle." 

"  You  terrify  me,  Mr.  Pynnshurst ;  tell  me  the  legend  ?" 

"  Once  on  a  time,"  said  Hugh,  "  that  lake  was  a  small 
estate,  tho  only  property  of  a  poor  widow.  But  a  rich 


98  PYXNSIlfKST. 

young  dame  whose  chateau  was  hard  by,  took  forcible  pos- 
session of  it,  and  ordered  it  to  be  planted  with  vines. 

"  And  the  next  noon-day  she  rode  there  to  give  directions 
personally,  but  when  she  reached  the  centre  of  the  place, 
there  came  a  clap  of  thunder,  and  the  earth  opened,  and 
swallowed  her  and  her  horse  ;  and  the  lake  welled  up  in  the 
place  of  the  little  estate.  From  which  historic  fact,  I  trust 
that  you  will  take  warning,  never  more  to  call  it  a  pond,  and 
never  to  take  forcible  possession  of  anybody's  territory." 

"All  which,"  said  the  lady,  "  I  promise  and  vow." 

A  little  farther  on  they  saw  upon  the  roadside  a  cross, 
marking  the  commencement  of  the  Catholic  territory ;  for 
from  thence  to  Bienne,  the  people  were  inconvertible,  and 
remained  in  the  old  faith. 

And  now  far  up  on  the  heights  there,  they  see  the  red 
roof  of  the  Presbytery,  and  the  white  spire  of  St.  Martin's 
Church,  at  CressitT.  Sure  of  a  welcome  from  the  good 
Cure,  they  drive  on  up  to  the  gate  of  the  court-yard,  and 
then  dismounting,  pass  into  the  ancient  little  Church. 

Simple  enough  it  is.  A  nave,  a  choir,  a  tower,  and  a 
porch ;  some  lancet  windows,  the  tombs  of  ancient  nobles 
that  pave  the  simple  chancel ;  some  shields  upon  the  roof, 
and  that  is  all.  But  the  church  stands  upon  the  foundation 
of  a  temple  to  Mars,  and  the  pagan  altar-stone  lies  down 
yonder  in  the  village.  Flowered  metal  crosses  mark  the 
resting-places  of  the  dead,  who  slumber  calmly  in  that  "  God's 
Acre,"  there  on  the  hill  top  of  Cressier. 


MORE    SIGHT-SEEING.  99 

But  one  must  enter  now  the  Presbytery,  and  see  the 
glorious  view  from  the  windows  of  the  modest  little 
saloon  and  taste  the  good  man's  wine. 

Look  from  the  windows,  Clemence,  and  see  that  beautiful 
plain  that  rolls  before  your  eyes  below  there ;  cut  in  two  by 
the  slow  moving  Thielle ;  bounded  by  the  wooded  hills 
there  not  far  off,  and  overlooked  again  by  those  giant 
guardians  of  Switzerland,  the  everlasting  Alps. 

The  first  roofs  down  there  to  the  left  are  those  of  Cressier, 
where  the  old,  old  chapel  is,  and  where  the  chaplain  lives 
and  serves.  There,  further  on,  is  the  quaint  Landeron  ;  and 
there,  where  the  bright  blue  waters  of  Bienne  are  sparkling 
in  the  light,  are  the  big  hotel  and  other  buildings  of 
Neuville. 

At  the  right  you  see  the  sweep  of  the  lake  of  NeUchaiel, 
and  the  white  spot  in  the  distance,  which  marks  Cudrefin. 
There  are  S.  Blaise  and  Marin  at  the  end  of  the  river. 

And  now  they  say  good-bye  to  the  Cure,  and  mount  their 
vehicle. 

"  What  is  the  order  now  ?"  asked  Leon. 

"  We  go  direct  to  Neuville,  where  we  lunch,  and  visit 
Landeron,  on  the  road  homeward." 

At  Neuville  they  found  the  grand  English  Hotel  which 
looks  so  importantly  insolent  at  the  quaint  old  houses  of  the 
town,  where  you  march  up  an  enormous  flight  of  steps,  and 
munch  your  salad,  and  sip  your  "  trente  quatre?  in  the 
biggest  and  coldest  of  all  salles  a  manger.  It  is  at  this 


100  PYNKSHURST. 

hotel  that  your  horse  dines,  for  he  loves  the  noon-day  hour 
as  well  as  his  biped  compatriots. 

"  Come,  come,  Clemence ;  come,  Pynnshurst,  I  am 
chilled  into  an  ague  in  this  great  room  ;  let  us  go  to  the 
lake." 

So  Pynnshurst  gives  his  arm  to  Clemence,  and  the  young 
Baron  follows  them  smiling,  and  thinking  that  they  are  a 
well  matched  pair. 

He  is  very  happy ;  for  he  is  much  better.  His  cough 
has  quite  left  him,  and  he  can  walk  now  for  an  hour  without 
feeling  fatigued ;  but  Pynnshurst  and  the  sister  watch  him 
yet,  and  warn  him  every  minute  of  little  dangers,  from 
humid  walls  or  damp  places  in  the  road. 

Now  they  are  on  the  edge  of  the  beautiful  lake,  and  there 
in  the  centre  is  the  Isle  of  Rabbits ;  for  that  respectable 
animal  is  its  only  inhabitant.  Further  on,  thick  with  green 
clustering  woods,  is  the  island  of  St.  Pierre,  refuge  of  Jean 
Jacques  Rousseau. 

Here  in  a  farm-house,  then  the  only  dwelling  on  the 
island,  though  it  contains  two  hundred  acres,  lived  the  old 
vicious  pagan  for  two  months,  paying  for  board  and  lodging 
ten  dollars  per  month. 

His  amusements  here  were  to  wander  about  the  woods? 
searching  for  plants,  with  whose  long  Latin  names  he  aston- 
ished his  host  and  hostess,  or  meditating  the  abominations 
which  he  had  written  or  intended  to  write. 

He  sap,  that,  of  all  his  enjoyments  here,  "  the  precious 


MORE    SIGHT-SEEING.  101 

far  niente  was  the  first  and  principal."  "  I  used,  (see  Reve- 
ries, Prom  V.)  to  throw  myself  into  a  boat  and  guide  it  to 
the  middle  of  the  lake  when  the  waters  were  calm  ;  and 
there  extended  at  full  length,  with  my  eyes  turned  towards 
the  sky,  I  let  myself  be  driven  as  wind  or  wave  pleased, 
sometimes  for  many  hours,  plunged  in  day  dreams  delicious 
though  confused." 

'Twas  he  that  stocked  the  little  isle  with  rabbits. 

But  the  authorities  of  Bienne  ordered  him  to  depart  from 
their  territories.  He  begged  to  be  imprisoned  there  for 
life,  with  only  a  few  books  and  occasional  permission  to 
walk  in  the  open  air ;  but  the  thick-headed  burghers  refused 
him  and  sent  him  off. 

On  the  island  Clemence  sat  down  upon  a  stone  at  the 
edge  of  the  lake,  while  the  two  young  men  walked  back 
and  forth  upon  the  shore. 

"  Shall  we  go  to  look  at  the  philosopher's  rooms,  Pynns- 
hurst  ?"  asked  Leon. 

"  No,  I  am  entirely  too  superstitious  for  the  present 
enlightened  age,  but  not  enough  so  to  make  a  pilgrimage  to 
the  shrines  of  S.  Rousseau.  How  on  earth,  Baron,  did  that 
man  make  his  reputation  ?  His  '  Nouvelle  Heloise'  is  utter- 
ly unreadable ;  I  never  could  meet  a  man  who  had  read 
more  than  a  dozen  letters.  His  comedies  are  very  ordinary 
affaii-s.  His  '  Confessions'  are  so  blasphemous  and  dull  for 
the  most  part,  that  the  fine  descriptive  portions  lose  their 
power  to  please ;  his  epigrams  are  merely  filthy,  and  never 


102  PYNKSHURST. 

spirited.  The  '  Social  Contract,'  I  have  never  read.  Is  that 
the  source  of  his  fame  f ' 

"  I  fancy  not.  His  reputation  rose  at  a  time  when  all 
that  was  irreligious  and  immoral  was  considered  the  work 
of  genius.  The  appetite  of  a  vulture  would  make  no  choice 
between  a  dead  Milton  and  a  dead  donkey ;  all  that  it 
desires  is  that  the  thing  be  rotten.  They  measured  their 
authors  then  by  their  degree  of  corruption,  and  he  was  the 
finest  who  had  the  strongest  smell." 

"  I  fancy  that  you  are  right,  Baron,  for  if  Rousseau's  fame 
is  not  accidental  it  is  incomprehensible.  But  let  us  rejoin 
your  sister." 

"  Ah,"  thought  the  Baron,  "  that  is  a  good  sign,  he  does 
not  like  to  stay  long  away  from  her." 

So  they  rejoined  the  lady,  embarked  in  the  skiff,  and 
were  soon  upon  the  mainland  again.  The  horses  had 
finished  their  dinner  and  were  soon  harnessed,  and  carrying 
the  trio  on  the  road  to  Landeron. 

"  What  is  that,  pray  ?"  asked  Clemence,  pointing  to  a  low 
dark  portal. 

"  It  is  a  gate,  Mademoiselle,"  said  Pynnshurst,  and  giving 
a  turn  to  the  horses  they  sprang  through  it,  and  the  party 
found  themselves  in  the  interior  of  an  enormous  egg. 

Dropped  by  the  "  Roc,"  mentioned  in  Sinbad's  Voyages, 
or  by  some  enormous  bird  of  the  good  old  days  of  Caliph 
Haroun  Alraschid,  they  had  broken,  at  one  end,  the  hole 
through  which  the  carriage  had  passed ;  they  had  cut  the 


MORE    SIGHT-SEEING.  103 

upper  side  off,  and  levelled  and  paved  the  lower.  The  two 
sides  now  remaining  preserved  their  curved  outlines,  and  all 
the  houses  are  stuck  against  them. 

There  are  no  streets  in  Landeron ;  no  squares,  no  places ; 
it  is  an  inhabited  ellipse  with  only  one  exit,  which  is  the 
entrance;  it  is  a  parenthesis  full  of  houses;  it  is  a  civilized 
egg.  The  centre  is  a  garden,  wherein  are  flowers  and  fruit- 
trees,  a  fountain,  and  dominating  all,  a  tall  stone  cross,  for 
Landeron  is  Catholic. 

Over  there  is  the  chapel  where  the  women  'have  the 
privilege  of  sitting  on  the  right  side. 

Up  there,  in  the  unpierced  end,  in  that  crazy-looking 
house  dwell  three  good  Capucins,  who  wear  fine  long  beards  ? 
horrible  brown  frocks,  and  the  sandals  of  S.  Francis.  They 
serve  as  Chaplains  of  the  neighborhood,  and  are  shoots  from 
the  Brotherhood  at  Fribourg. 

It  was  the  Capucin  father  Antoine,  who  gave  the  brief 
advice  to  the  peasant. 

"  Father,"  said  the  latter,  "  I  am  very  poor ;  I  have  more 
family  than  I  can  well  manage,  and  there  is  another  baby 
coming.  What  must  I  do  ?" 

"  Buy  another  spoon,"  said  the  friar,  "  and  pray  to  the 
Bon  Dieu." 


VI. 

UP  THE    MOUNTAIN. 

THE  leaves  were  yet  untinted  with  the  sad  hues  of  the 
autumn.  Early  September  was  beautiful  on  the  earth. 
There  were  flowers,  and  water,  full  of  sunlight,  and  the  sweet 
voices  of  many  birds,  and  brilliant  insects  flashing  through 
the  air.  The  atmosphere  was  soft  and  warm  as  the  kiss  of 
a  mother  upon  the  forehead  of  her  slumbering  child.  There 
was  all  the  calm  of  autumn  with  the  glory  of  the  Summer. 
But  on  the  far-off  hills,  lay  the  eternal  snow,  a  voiceless 
warning  of  the  cold  and  desolation  that  must  come. 

"  Whither  do  you  take  us  to-day,  Sir  Hugh  de  Pynns- 
hurst  ?"  asked  the  gentle  lady  Clemence. 

"  Whither  would  you,  lady  fair  ?"  he  asked  in  answer. 
"  Your  wishes  are  my  laws." 

"  What  is  there  for  us  now  to  see  ?"  she  said. 


UP    THE    MOUNTAIN.  105 

"  0,  much,"  he  replied,  "  if  you  will  only  specify  the 
direction.  North,  South,  East,  or  West." 

"  South,  South  !"  cried  the  invalid,  "  and  nearer  to  the 
mountains.  I  feel  so  well  to-day  that  I  shall  enjoy  them," 
and  he  rose  from  his  chair,  to  show  how  strong  he  was.  But 
Clemence  gently  forced  him  back,  and  put  away  the  thick 
curls  from  his  forehead,  and  looked  at  his  face,  beautiful  in 
its  delicacy,  as  she  spoke. 

"  Don't  be  too  strong,  dear  Leon." 

"  Come,  Pynnshurst,  have  you  decided  ?"  asked  the 
Baron. 

And  then  Hugh  Pynnshurst  answered  and  said — 

"  As  you  rest  floating  pleasantly  in  your  boat  upon  the 
lake,  with  your  back  to  S.  Blaise,  your  face  to  Iverdun,  and 
the  evening  sky  above  you,  you  catch  a  side  glimpse  of  the 
Alps  on  your  left,  and  the  shadow  of  the  Chaumont  darkens 
the  water  at  your  right.  The  water  drips  musically  from 
your  lifted  oars ;  and  the  ripple  beats  gently  at  the  bow.  It 
is  the  throbbing  of  the  heart  of  the  waters." 

"  You  have  a  half  consciousness  of  the  many-angled  roofs 
and  quaint  old  chimney-pots  of  the  city,  but  down  below 
there,  beyond  the  last  few  straggling  houses,  you  see  two 
twin-hills  rising,  a  bosom  of  the  earth.  Between  them  and 
the  lake  is  another  eminence ;  but  those  two,  rounded  and 
nearly  always  veiled,  occupy  all  your  attention. 

"  Thither,  each  day,  when  the  glad  sun  is  departing,  the 
wind  brings  the  soft  young  mist-clouds,  and  lays  them  down 
5* 


106  PYNNSHURST. 

there  one-by-one,  and  lulls  them  with  a  low  soft  murmur  to 
repose.  And  while  their  merry  brethren,  higher  up  in 
heaven,  bask  in  the  golden  and  the  crimson  lights  of  eve, 
they  sleep  there  calmly  in  the  cradle  of  the  hills.  And  the 
zephyrs  rock  them  through  the  livelong  night,  and  the 
pines  and  the  night-breeze  sing  their  lullaby." 

"  But  at  morning  they  are  wakened  and  pass  away,"  said 
the  young  Baron,  sadly. 

"  Yes,  Baron,"  answered  Hugh,  "  they  pass  away,  but  into 
Heaven !" 

"  You  are  talking  mournfully,  my  friends,"  said  Clemence. 
"  To  what  does  your  description  lead,  Mr.  Pynnshurst  ?" 

"  I  flatter  myself,  Mademoiselle,  that  it  was  rather  a  neat 
piece  of  description." 

"  I  shall  keep  my  opinion,  sir,  until  I  am  editress  of  a 
journal.  At  present,  it  would  be  desirable  to  know  its  im- 
mediate application." 

"It  is  only  that  I  mean  to  take  you  by  those  two 
hills, » 

"  Which  I  name  from  henceforth,  the  Cradle  of  the 
Mists,"  interrupted  the  lady. 

"  Thank  you,"  Pynnshurst  answered, "  for  that  title's  sake, 
to-day  I  will  show  you  a  Glacier." 

"  A  Glacier !  where  are  we  going  then  ?" 

"TovisitlaBrevine." 

"  Which  means, " 

"  Something  which   I   ignore.    But  we   must   start  at 


UP   THE   MOUNTAIN.  ±QJ 

once ;  it  is  now  half-past  eight,  half  an  hour  behind  the 
time  appointed,  and  it  will  require  till  noonday  to  reach 
there." 

"  And  how  long  are  we  to  stay  ?"  askea  Clemence. 

"  At  most,"  Pynnshurst  answered,  "  three  quarters  of  an 
hour ;  you  can  order  dinner  here  at  half  past  five,  and  invite 
me  to  eat  it  with  you." 

"Mademoiselle  and  Baron  Leon  de  Mortemart  pre- 
sentent,  etc." 

"  Precisely  !  Mr.  Pynnshurst  is  sensible  of  the  honor  and 
accepts  avec  reconnaissance.  Baron,  order  your  wrappers 
and  furs,  you  will  find  it  cold  on  the  mountain,  and  you, 
Mademoiselle,  take  a  good  thick  shawl,  a  bottle  of  sherry, 
and  a  biscuit,  if  you  please." 

u  When  do  we  march,  General  ?" 

"  In  five  minutes  precisely ;  the  carriage  is  now  at  the 
door." 

Clemence  disappeared  for  a  moment,  and  came  back 
charming  in  a  straw  hat.  Leon  was  well  wrapped  up,  and 
they  started  off  in  one  of  those  four-seated  open  carriages 
which  resemble  an  American  "  rockaway,"  the  driver  having 
a  small  seat  for  himself  in  front.  Before  they  had  gone  far 
the  Baron  said, 

"Pynnshurst,  let  a  sick  man  be  selfish.  Will  you 
change  seats  with  me  ?  I  can  recline  on  the  front  seat  if  I 
have  it  all  to  myself." 

"Certainly,"   said   Pynnshurst,   and   with   a  glance   at 


108  PYNNSHURST. 

Clemence,  who  blushed  slightly  as  she  answered  his  smile, 
he  took  his  place  beside  her.  And  the  baron  noticed 
both  the  smile  and  blush,  and  congratulated  himself  on 
the  neatness  of  his  manoeuvre ;  and  thought  within  him- 
self, "  Ah,  if  I  could  only  see  them  married,  I  would  ask  no 
more." 

They  had  seen  his  object,  and  had  discovered  his  hopes, 
but,  as  it  gave  him  pleasure,  neither  Hugh  nor  Clemence 
did  anything  to  undeceive  him. 

Pynnshurst  himself  was  not  clear  as  to  his  feelings  for 
the  fair,  sad  girl. 

Great  tenderness,  both  his  voice  and  manner  showed,  as 
he  saw  her  moving  about  her  brother,  watching  him  like  a 
mother,  devoting  herself  to  a  single  object,  namely,  his  com- 
fort. She  read  his  desires  in  his  eyes,  in  his  slightest 
motion ;  he  seldom  had  need  to  speak  them.  Infinite  pity 
for  her  mournful  and  lonely  state,  Hugh  certainly  felt ;  and 
"  pity  is  akin  to  love." 

And  Clemence  ? 

"  My  friend,"  said  the  Baron  to  the  coachman,  "  do  you 
know  the  way  to  our  destination  I" 

"  Monsieur,  I  was  born  there." 

"  Indeed  !  it  is  an  additional  inducement  to  visit, 
la—la—" 

"La  Brevine,  Monsieur,  it  is  cold  and  rough  up  there, 
but  a  fine  place.  Not  many  voyagers  go  to  see  it ;  but 
they  might  as  well.  It  is  worth  the  trouble." 


UP    THE    MOUNTAIN.  109 

"  It  is  in  the  region  where  the  fairies  used  to  live,  is  it 
not  ?" 

"  Oh,  they  lived  all  over  the  Jura.  There  where  you  see 
those  mountains,  is  the  house  of  the  Cochon  Noir." 

"Ah,  I  have  heard  of  him  before ;  pray,  what  did  he  ever 
do  for  his  country  ?" 

"  Oh,  Monsieur,  he  was  once  a  brave  and  noble  Seigneur, 
the  Lord  of  Maiche,  and  he  had  a  superb  chateau  on  the 
mountain  yonder,  where  you  can  see  its  ruins  even  yet. 

"  He  was  good  at  first,  but  became  avaricious,  and 
would  do  anything  for  gold.  At  last  he  took  to  robbing 
the  Abbeys  and  despoiling  the  very  churches.  But  then 
he  was  excommunicated,  and  the  fairies  got  hold  of  him. 
All  his  treasures  are  locked  up  in  an  iron  box,  and  buried 
in  the  ruins  there  ;  and  every  hundred  years  he  is  forced  to 
come  back  to  earth,  in  the  likeness  of  a  black  wild-boar; 
and  he  roams  about  the  mountain,  near  his  coffer,  with  a 
golden  key  in  his  mouth,  and  whosoever,  Monsieur,  shall 
snatch  that  key  from  his  tusks,  shall  get  his  treasures  and 
shall  free  him  from  his  pains." 

"You  would  like  to  meet  him,  I  suppose,"  said  the 
Baron. 

"  If  ever  I  do,  Til  have  a  tug  at  the  key,"  cried  the  coach- 
man, stoutly. 

"  But  tell  us,  my  friend,"  cried  Pynnshurst,  "  have  you 
no  good  long  story  to  shorten  the  way  for  us  ?" 


110  PVNNSHURST. 

"  Ah,  Monsieur,"  said  Coachee,  modestly,  "  wiiaidl  could  I 
tell,  Monsieur." 

"  Why,  a  man  from  the  Jura  should  be  full  of  such  things, 
something  about  the  old  fairies.  Come,  Mademoiselle  is 
anxious  to  listen  to  you." 

And  Clemence  added  her  request  to  Pynnshurst's. 

"  Well,  Mademoiselle  and  Messieurs,"  said  the  Coachee, 
"  I  don't  know  that  anything  has  ever  happened  to  me,  but 
I  can  tell  you  a  story  of  my  grandfather." 

"  Bravo,"  cried  the  invalid,  "  grandfather  stories  are 
always  the  best." 


VI. 

THE  COACHMAN'S  STORY. 

"  MY  grandfather,"  said  the  Coachee,  taking  up  his  parable, 
"my  grandfather  was  a  great  hunter  in  his  time,  and  even 
when  I  remember  him,  he  had  an  eye  like  a  hawk.  He 
was  very  fond  of  the  sport,  and  would  renounce  food  and 
sleep,  any  day,  for  a  good  chevreuil  hunt,  for  there  were 
chevreuils  upon  the  Jura,  Mademoiselle,  in  my  grandfather's 
time.  He  was  an  old  man,  and  always  wore  knee- 
buckles. 

u  Eh,  bien,  Mademoiselle  and  Messieurs  ;  it  was  the  end 
of  the  autumn,  a  great  many  years  ago ;  for  my  grandfather 
was  but  thirty  years  old,  and  he  died  at  ninety-seven,  fifteen 
years  ago,  come  S.  John's  day.  It  was  in  the  end  of  the 
autumn  that  he  had  hunted  all  day,  without  having  killed  so 
much  as  a  partridge,  and  the  night  began  to  fall. 


112  PV'NNSllURST. 

"It  was  too  late  for  him  to  think  of  returning  home,  so 
he  started  for  a  chalet  (herdsman's  hut)  halfway  towards 
home,  and  which  he  knew  to  be  empty  at  this  season. 
Well,  as  he  approached  this,  you  may  be  sure  that  he  was 
very  much  surprised  to  hear  the  tinkling  of  cow-bells,  and 
the  voices  of  herdsmen,  for  it  was  fully  six  weeks  since  the 
herds  had  gone  down  to  the  valley.  However,  he  went  in 
and  found  there  four  persons  whom  he  had  never  seen  the 
like  of  before  in  his  life. 

"  One  was  lame,  another  had  but  one  eye,  a  third  was  all 
head  and  legs,  and  the  fourth  seemed  a  leper.  All  four 
were  yellow  and  wrinkled  like  a  piece  of  old  parchment ; 
and  each  had  lost  the  first  and  second  fingers  of  the  right 
hand.  They  spoke  a  language  which,  he  said,  was  very  like 
the  noise  which  the  crows  make  when  going  to  roost.  They 
looked  at  him  curiously,  and  each  one  made  a  sign  to  him 
to  seat  himself  on  the  trunk  of  a  tree  which  lay  near  the 
fire-place. 

"  You  may  be  sure  that  my  grandfather  did  not  feel 
altogether  at  his  ease  in  such  curious  company,  and  when 
he  took  his  seat,  he  was  careful  to  keep  his  gun  within  his 
own  reach  and  out  of  theirs. 

"  Everything,  however,  went  on  smoothly.  They  made  a 
little  cheese,  and  after  that  a  little  whey  ;  there  was  already 
a  quantity  of  sausages  hanging  from  a  post  in  the  chalet. 

'*  By-and-by,  the  head  and  legs  came  towards  him  and 
offered  him  a  gatelet,  which  is  a  sort  of  biscuit  which  they 


THE  COACHMAN'S  STORY.  113 

make  in  the  mountains,  and  a  piece  of  beef.  A.S  be  bad  a 
hunter's  appetite,  he  pulled  bis  knife  from  his  pocket,  cut  a 
piece  about  the  size  of  a  finger  from  the  beef,  and  put  it  to 
his  mouth.  As  be  found  it  very  tasteless  be  said — 

"  This  wants  a  little  salt  to  make  it  palatable. 

"  At  these  words  the  four  men  began  to  gnash  and  grind 
their  teeth  in  a  manner  that  was  horrible  to  see,  and  looked 
at  him  as  if  they  would  have  devoured  him  alive. 

"  Then  he  remembered  that  he  was  beginning  to  eat  more 
like  a  dog  than  a  Christian,  and  taking  off  his  cap  he  asked 
God's  blessing  and  St.  Martin's,  and  made  the  sign  of  the 
cross  upon  his  forehead  and  his  breast. 

"  In  an  instant  all  vanished :  he  saw  neither  cattle  nor 
herdsmen,  and  heard  no  more  noise.  My  grandfather  was 
alone  in  the  chalet,  not  knowing  what  to  think  ;  so  he  threw 
himself  on  some  hay  in  a  corner,  and  never  closed  an  eye 
the  whole  of  the  night. 

"  Well,  Mademoiselle  and  Messieurs,  think  of  his  astonish- 
ment, when  he  found  himself,  at  break  of  day,  lying  on  a 
bed  of  extinguished  coals.  He  was  dying  with  hunger,  so 
he  took  his  gun  in  his  hand  and  began  to  search  about  for 
something  to  eat. 

"  But  instead  of  the  last  night's  cheese,  he  found  only  a 
stone  ;  instead  of  whey,  some  dried  mortar ;  and  in  the  place 
of  the  gatelet  there  was  a  brick.  So  he  started  off  and 
hurried  back  home  as  quick  as  he  could.  At  the  door  he 


114  I'YXXSHUKST. 

met  his  little  boy  Pierre,  that  was  my  father,  Mademoiselle 
and  Messieurs,  who  came  to  meet  him,  crying  out — 

" '  Oh,  father,  what  do  you  think  has  happened  to  Meny 
last  night  ?'  Merry  was  the  finest  cow  in  my  grandfather's 
herd. 

"  '  I  shall  know  when  you  tell  me,'  said  my  grandfather. 

"  '  Well,  father,  she  has  lost  from  her  left  leg,  a  piece  of 
flesh  as  big  as  your  finger  !' 

" '  Now,  this  news  set  my  grandfather  a  thinking.  No 
doubt  it  was  the  very  morsel  which  he  had  eaten  last  night. 
So  he  said  nothing ;  but  so  soon  as  he  had  eaten  a  satis- 
factory meal,  he  set  off  to  consult  Uncle  Theodore,  as  he 
was  called,  the  oldest  man  in  the  parish,  and  the  wisest,  for 
he  had  been  taught  by  the  good  Jesuit  fathers  at  Fribourg. 

" '  Jean,'  said  old  Theodore,  '  they  were  ghosts,  those 
figures  in  the  chalet,  and  I  am  going  to  tell  you  how  they  come 
to  be  there.  Two  hundred  years  ago,  a  cattle  raiser  claimed 
the  ownership  of  that  mountain,  and  forged  some  deeds  to 
prove  it ;  and  he,  and  three  others  with  him,  held  up  their 
right  hands  before  the  judge,  and  swore  that  they  saw  the 
late  seigneur  sign  the  deeds. 

" '  But  they  were  found  out,  and  condemned  to  lose  their 
first  and  second  fingers ;  and  furthermore,  as  they  died 
without  repenting,  they  have  been  condemned  to  visit  the 
chalet,  and  to  do  all  the  work  there,  until  they  can  per- 
suade a  man  to  eat  a  certain  quantity  of  beef  cut  from  one 
of  his  own  cows,  without  salt,  which  they  hate,  because  the 


THE    COACH  MA./,-,     >    o     ..  115 

Church  makes  use  of  it,  and  without  thanking  God  for  the 
food  which  He  sends.  If  you  had  not  thought  in  time  of 
your  grace,  you  would  may  be  have  been  obliged  to  take 
their  place.' " 

"  Such,  Mademoiselle  and  Messieurs,"  said  the  coachman, 
"  such  is  my  grandfather's  story." 


vn. 

THE    SHADOW    OF    MONT  BLANC. 

THEN,  answering  the  thanks  of  all  with  a  touch  of  the  hat, 
he  cracked  his  whip  and  urged  his  horses  on.  And  the 
merry  little  party  within,  canvassed  the  merits  of  the  coun- 
try round  them  ;  made  schemes  of  pleasant  tours  to  last  for 
a  month  to  come ;  discussed  the  lore  of  fairy  land,  its 
merits  and  its  usefulness.  Pynnshurst  thought  it  all  sym- 
bolical ;  the  Baron  fancied  it  accidental.  He  was  probably 
right,  but  Hugh  had  poesy  and  Clemence  on  his  side. 

Ever  as  they  mounted,  they  caught  ravishing  Alpine 
views,  and  saw,  in  the  far  distance,  brief  autumn  showers 
falling.  Skirmishings  of  warrior  clouds,  above  the  warrior 
Alps.  Sometimes  the  summer  would  come  back,  marshal- 
ling his  black-robed  band,  armed  with  the  thunder,  all  to  be 
swept  away  by  the  strong  wind,  weeping  as  they  passed 


THE    SHADOW    OF    MONT    BLANC.  11 7 

above  the  hills.  And  sometimes  the  king  of  the  winter 
would  rush  out,  upon  his  misty  charger,  from  his  rock  fast- 
nesses to  tilt  against  the  sun.  And  the  sun,  with  mace  of 
fire,  would  attack  him,  shatter  his  crystal  shield,  and 
shower  it  down  upon  the  earth  in  hail. 

But  near  our  wanderers,  the  Autumn  Heaven  was  warm 
and  pure,  and  rolling  onward  gaily,  between  the  Val  de 
Travers  and  the  Val  de  Ruz,  they  arrived  at  last  at  the  lit- 
tle Auberge,  whence  they  must  walk  a  few  steps  to  the 
glacier. 

It  was  not  large,  but  still  it  was  as  unaccountable  and  as 
curious  as  its  mightier  kindred  among  the  Alps.  You  could 
not  at  first  believe  it  motionless  ;  there  were  waves  just  ris- 
ing, there  were  waves  at  full  height  rolling  in  their  strength, 
there  were  waves  just  breaking  on  the  shore,  with  foam  upon 
their  lips  like  a  chafed  war-horse.  But  you  listened  in  vain 
for  the  sound  of  the  waters ;  you  waited  vainly  for  the 
breaking  of  the  wave.  And  the  silence  and  the  repose 
stole  gradually  upon  you,  and  you  perceived  that  the  vexed 
lake  was  solid  as  the  steel. 

"  It  is  Niobe,  petrified  in  the  midst  of  her  stormy  sorrow," 
said  the  baron. 

"  It  is  like  a  silent  passion,"  said  Pynnshurst. 

"  It  was  the  lake  of  a  repining  Naiad,"  said  the  gentle 
Clemence,  "  who  would  have  burst  from  these  rocky  boun- 
daries, and  the  spirit  of  the  mountain  has  frozen  her  while 
she  struggled." 


118  FYNNSHURST. 

"  Home,  home,"  said  Pynnshurst,  "  Nature  is  very  grand, 
but  man  has  a  stomach.  Three  hours  yet  to  dinner, 
and  the  air  of  the  mountain  here  sets  one's  appetite  on 
edge." 

The  horses  had  eaten,  and  the  coachman,  thanks  to  a 
couple  of  Gulden  from  Pynnshurst,  had  drank,  and  he 
made  the  carriage  spin  along  the  downward  way. 

The  invalid  was  in  the  most  exuberant  spirits. 

"  It  is  a  year's  lease  of  life  to  breathe  this  pure  and  brac- 
ing atmosphere,"  he  cried.  "  I  feel  a  strength  which  I  have 
not  known  for  months.  A  few  more  weeks,  Clemence,  and 
I  shall  be  restored." 

She  looked  at  him  lovingly,  and  leaning  forward,  clasped 
the  throat  of  his  cloak. 

"  Then,"  he  said,  "  ho,  for  Paris ;  where  I  shall  find  a 
husband  for  you,  Mademoiselle,  among  some  of  our  old 
names  of  France.  What  think  you  of  that,  Pynnshurst  ?" 
and  he  looked  maliciously  affectionate ;  "  Do  you  think  I  can 
get  any  one  to  take  her  ?" 

"  I  shall  feel  it  my  duty,"  said  Hugh,  "  to  throw  all  pre- 
tenders into  the  Seine." 

"  And  you,  Mademoiselle,  pray  what  say  you  ?" 

"  That  it  will  be  time  enough  to  think  about  it  when  we 
get  to  Paris." 

She  feared  that  he  was  exciting  himself  too  much,  but 
dared  not  check  him ;  he  was  looking  so  well  and  so  exult- 
ingly  handsome,  with  a  fair  fresh  color,  not  hectic  but  clear 


THK    SHADOW    OF    MONT    BLANC.  119 

and  gentle.  And  so  with  undiminished  gaiety  they  reached 
the  hotel. 

"  Quick  with  your  dinners,"  cried  Leon ;  "  Pynnshurst,  we 
must  finish  the  day  with  a  row  upon  the  lake." 

"  Leon  dear,"  said  his  sister,  "  had  you  not  better  rest  ?" 

"  No,  no,"  he  answered,  "  we  must  go  and  welcome  the 
shadow  of  Mont  Blanc.  You  know  that  this  is  the  only 
month  of  all  the  year  in  which  it  falls  on  lake  Neuchatel." 

"But  it  falls  in  the  morning,  Baron." 

"  Peace,  rebel,  I  am  king  to-day."  And  indeed  he  looked 
so  well,  and  the  evening  was  so  warm  and  fair,  that  they 
yielded  to  his  wish,  and  after  dinner,  they  went  down  to  the 
lake. 

"  Only  one  rower,"  said  the  Baron,  "  and  get  a  deaf  and 
dumb  one  if  you  can." 

"  I  will  row  it  myself,"  said  Hugh. 

So  the  boat  was  prepared,  and  a  bed  of  cloaks  made  for 
the  invalid,  and  they  floated  out  into  the  middle  of  the  lake. 
And  gradually  the  deep,  holy  calm  of  the  sunset  on  those 
beautiful  waters,  fell  upon  all,  and  the  silence  of  nature 
found  its  way  to  their  hearts,  and  set  its  seal  upon  their  lips. 
Only  once  the  sick  man  spoke. 

"  I  know,"  he  said,  "why  the  great  'Monarch  of  Moun- 
tains' there,  visits  this  sweet  scene  only  in  the  Autumn. 
II  is  shadow  comes  to  watch  the  death  of  the  summer  mid 
the  lindens  yonder  on  the  shore%  for  it  knows  that  all  things 
are  loveliest  in  decay." 


120  PVN'NSHfRST. 

The  teal's  sprang  into  the  sister's  eyes,  and  as  her  brother 
laid  his  head  upon  her  knees,  she  bent  over  to  kiss  him, 
and  he  raised  his  arms  and  put  them  round  her  neck,  and 
held  her  so  awhile,  with  her  sweet  face  touching  his. 

Then  he  seemed. to  sleep;  Clemence  motioned  to  Pynn- 
shurst  to  turn  towards  the  shore.  As  he  did  so  a  shiver 
passed  over  the  frame  of  the  baron  as  he  lay  with  one  arm 
above  his  face,  upon  his  sister's  knee. 

"  Quick,  quick,  Mr.  Pynnshurst !"  she  whispered,  "  if  he 
sleep  he  will  take  cold." 

Yes,  if  he  sleep  !  and  he  does  sleep.  And  the  cold 
comes  over  him  rapidly.  And  when  he  waketh,  it  will  be 
with  God.  Without  a  murmur,  without  a  pain,  he  has 
gone  from  this  earthly  loveliness  to  a  scene  more  fair. 

Pynnshurst  could  see  from  his  place  that  his  friend 
was  dead.  He  did  not  speak,  however,  but  only  rowed 
fust  for  the  shore.  And  suddenly  a  little  mist-cloud  caught 
his  eyes,  and  he  watched  it  as  it  floated  rapidly  on,  and 
disappeared  away  in  the  calm  of  heaven. 

When  his  eyes  fell,  they  rested  on  Mont  Blanc. 

Only  in  the  autumn  does  it  overshade  these  waters. 
Poor  Clemence ;  the  shadow  hath  fallen  upon  thy  heart,  in 
thy  Spring. 


BOOK   III. 


CANTON    FKEYBOURO 


"  Le  '  antott  «.lo  Fribourg,  bien  qu'il  ne  soil  pas  Tun  tics  plus  consid6rables  do 
la  Suisse,  inerite  d  plusieura  §garda  une  attention  partictiliere." 

MAGASIK  PITTOKESQUK,  Juillet,  1850. 


LAST    LOOK    AT    THE    LAKE. 

IF  you  take  your  station  at  the  pier-head  of  Neuchatel, 
and  turn  your  face  towards  the  other  side  of  the  lake,  in  a 
somewhat  south-easterly  manner,  you  will  see,  provided 
vour  eyes  are  open,  and  that  you  are  not  blind  nor  near- 
sighted, or,  in  the  latter  case,  that  you  have  your  spectacles, 
and  that  you  look  towards  the  right  spot — you  will  see,  I 
repeat,  on  the  edge  of  the  lake,  a  white  spot,  and  further  off, 
a  whiter  spot. 

Now,  the  latter  of  these  is  a  very  lofty  tower,  called  in 
former  days  la  tour  de  la  Mortiere,  and  in  modern  times 
Oculus  Helvetia,  the  Eye  of  Switzerland.  From  its  top 
you  can  see  all  Switzerland,  except  a  small  portion  in  the 
south ;  if  you  would  take  the  trouble  to  remove  the  Alps 
you  would  see  that  part  also. 


124 

On  the  top  of  this  tower,  they  illumine  a  beacon-light, 
which  tells  to  all  Switzerland  that  a  new  revolution  has 
broken  out  in  France.  Latterly,  the  tower-top  has  been  very 
cheerful,  but  the  price  of  fuel  begins  to  rise. 

The  white  spot  on  the  shore  is  the  Chateau  of  Estavayer, 
about  which  I  might  have  a  great  deal  to  say,  when  I  have 
finished  with  other  matters  ;  but  I  shall  abstain  altogether. 
The  other  matters  may  be  summed  up  as  follows.  Esta- 
vayer is  a  corruption  of  Sta  Viator;  because  the  Viator 
comes  suddenly  to  the  lake.  It  has  a  church  with  fine 
wood-work  in  the  choir  ;  a  suppressed  sisterhood  of  mercy  ; 
an  empty  succursalc  of  the  Jesuits,  and  an  ancient  sub- 
terranean prison.  Opposite  the  chateau,  on  the  Neuchatel 
side,  is  the  chateau  of  Granson,  where  Charles  the  Bold 
got  desperately  flogged,  and  where  once  lived  the  noblest 
of  Swiss  knights,  Otho  de  Granson,  cousin  of  Gerard,  Count 
d'  Estavayer. 

How  Otho  won  los  and  honor  in  England  and  in 
Burgundy,  and  came  back  to  Switzerland  to  win  the 
heart  of  his  sweet  cousin  Kate,  Baroness  de  Belss  ;  how 
he  found  a  rival  in  his  cousin  Gerard  d'  Estavayer,  and 
got  swindled  out  of  his  bride,  I  might  tell  you,  but  I 
wont. 

You  came  near  learning  that  Gerard  killed  Otho's 
squire  and  dog,  and  made  three  attempts  upon  the  life  of 
their  master ;  and  that  when  they  fought  in  the  lists  at 


LAST  LOOK  AT  THE  LAKE.  125 

Lausanne,  Gerard,  by  foul  play,  killed  the  good  knight,  and 
then  that  cousin  Kate  died  broken-hearted,  while  Otho 
sleeps  in  the  old  cathedral  church  of  Lausanne,  on  the 
shores  of  blue  Lake  Leman. 

But  I  hare  taken  a  fancy  to  leave  you  in  ignorance  of 
this,  and  I  will  not  balk  my  fancy.  Let  us  go  on  to  the 
next. 


II. 

M  0  R  AT . 

IT  was  a  bright  June  morning  when  Hugh  Pynnshurst,  bid- 
ding adieu  to  Ne^chatel,  mounted  a  sort  of  four-wheeled  gig 
to  go  to  Fribourg. 

The  road  keeps  always  by  the  side  of  the  lake,  between 
the  water  and  the  high  vineyard-walls.  The  vines  are  just 
beginning  to  show  their  leaves,  and  the  vineyards  to  lose 
their  resemblance  to  an  unshaved  blacksmith. 

The  dust  rises  from  beneath  the  horse  hoofs  and  the  roll- 
ing wheels,  and  the  wind  drives  it,  in  light  clouds,  far  off  to 
the  foot  of  Jura,  or  to  the  bosom  of  the  lake.  Agile  lizards 
bask  on  the  parapet  top  in  the  genial  warmth,  or  hide  them- 
selves at  the  sound  of  footsteps  in  the  thick  foliage  of  the 
ivy. 

The  year's  first  flowers  salute  the  wanderer ;  the  green 


MOKAT.  127 

fields  sparkle  with  golden  buttercups ;  the  daisies,  stars  of 
the  earth,  search  vainly  in  the  day-time  their  sisters  of  the 
sky ;  under  the  violet,  the  desire  of  spring  opens  her  deep 
blue  eyes  to  regard  the  blue  on  high. 

On  goes  the  Wanderer,  bearing  his  sad  heart  with  him 
On  through  S.  Blaise,  where  the  cross  still  rests  upon  the  old 
church,  all  reformed  but  the  spire.  On  through  Marin,  home 
of  all  muck  heaps.  On  by  Champion,  where  the  pretty 
peasant  fed  his  horse,  and  the  little  children  trotted  after 
him  crying  "  Sitz,  sitz"  for  batzen. 

And  at  last  in  crossing  the  Thielle  he  halts  a  moment 
on  the  bridge  to  take  his  last  look  of  the  fair  lake.  Clear 
down  to  Iverdun,  it  stretches  far  away,  dotted  with  white 
sails,  and  the  lazy  steamer  that  frightens  its  pike  and  perch. 
The  yellow  bunch  there  to  the  right  is  Neuchatel ;  at  the 
left  beyond  those  low  hills,  is  visible  the  lake  and  town 
of  Morat  where  Charles  the  Bold  did  not  stay  very  long. 
So  on  he  goes  through  socialist  Anet,  and  at  last  rattles 
beneath  the  frowning  gateway  of  the  old  feudal  town  of 
Morat. 

He  entered  a  very  extraordinary  street,  all  arcaded  ;  and 
under  the  arches  are  women  in  droll  costumes,  carding  wool, 
cutting  up  and  peeling  vegetables,  combing  the  hair  of 
smaller  Swiss,  and  regarding  the  voyager  with  kindly  glances 
as  he  passed  observant  but  sad  along  the  way. 

The  shadow  of  Mont  Blanc  was  on  his  memory  yet. 

He  entered  the  Couronne  d1  Or,  and  ordered  his  dinner ; 


128  PYNNSHURST. 

while  this  was  being  prepared,  he  looked  out  of  the  back 
windows  of  the  Hotel  and  saw  that  the  next  street  was  at 
least  one  hundred  and  fifty  feet  below  him.  Then  he 
thought  that  Morat  was  an  uncommonly  comical  city  ;  and 
he  tried  to  imagine  how  people  went  from  one  street  to 
another ;  and  he  concluded  that  they  must  be  hoisted  up 
and  let  down  with  buckets,  as  they  do  in  the  mines. 

The  beautiful  lake  was  before  him,  beneath  whose  waves 
lie  many  a  bright  Burgundian  sword  ;  within  whose  waters 
float  fish  whose  great,  great  grandfathers  may  have  eaten  a 
cousin  of  Philip  de  Comines,  or  even  of  stout  Crevecceur 
himself. 

On  the  other  side  there,  dirty  little  Motiers  casts  its 
shadow  on  the  waters,  and  northward  the  Broye  ripples 
over  its  rocks,  and  "  swaps"  the  Morat  liquid  for  that  of 
Neuchatel. 

As  it  becomes  me  to  write  the  adventures  of  a  "real 
traveller,"  the  idlest  observant  wanderer  that  ever  sauntered 
into  out  of  the  way  places,  I  must  tell  you  that  Hugh,  after 
looking  at  the  walls,  where  Burgundian  cannon-balls  are  still 
sticking,  went  outside  and  sought  the  museum.  You  would 
like  to  know  what  he  saw  there  ;  and  that  is  just  what  I  was 
going  to  tell  you. 

He  saw  a  brown  lion  in  crimson  pantaloons  ;  and  that  is  the 
arms  of  Morat ;  and  I  may  mention  here,  that  the  said  arms 
holds  a  flag  in  its  hands.  There  he  saw  a  lay-figure,  all  in 


MORAT.  129 

armor,  which  they  told  him  was  Adrian  Von  Bubenberg, 
which  is  a  very  pretty  name,  but  Charles  of  Burgundy  did 
not  like  it.  There  he  saw  a  funny  little  cannon  with  a  fat 
head,  and  another  long  consumptive  cannon,  and  any 
quantity  of  shields,  and  silver-gilt  goblets  from  which  the 
wine  has  vanished  to  "  never  come  there  no  more." 

There  he  saw  drums,  captured  from  the  drummers  of  le 
Tcmeraire,  and  still  beaten  on  high  festivals.  I  add  by 
way  of  drumat\ca\  information,  that  they  are  not  made  of 
wood  but  of  copper,  and  that  the  tone  is  louder  but  not  so 
sweet  as  that  of  the  drums  in  our  own  blessed  republic. 

There  he  saw  numerous  halberds,  (they  are  long-shafted 
battle-axes,  Madam,)  and  several  inscriptions  commemora- 
tive of  the  Swiss  prowess,  done  into  Latin  for  the  benefit  of 
the  common  people,  and  highly  eulogistic ;  for  the  fault  of 
the  Swiss  is  like  the  only  defect  of  the  Americans,  they  are 
overweeningly  modest. 

That  cost  forty  cents. 

So  he  walked  through  the  village  by  the  high  street,  and 
tumbled  off  the  other  end  into  a  road  below,  and  waded 
through  much  dust  to  the  battle-field,  whereon  is  a  stone 
pillar,  with  a  florid  inscription,  and  another  monument 
very  tastefully  formed  of  the  skulls  and  bones  of  dead 
Burgundians. 

Then  he  came  back,  and  swallowed  a  petit  verre  d> 
absinthe,  and  ate  his  dinner ;  and  so  called  for  his  horse 

and  got  out  of  Morat  at  a  trot. 
«* 


130  PYNNS  HURST. 

It  was  there,  you  ought  to  know,  that  Duke  Charles  of 
Burgundy  (our  old  friend  in  Quentin  Durward,  and  Anne 
of  Geierstein)  came ;  to  flog  the  Switzers.  But  he  did  not 
do  it,  because  the  stupid  creatures  would  not  let  him  ;  and 
I  am  going  to  tell  you  all  about  it.  But  if  you  don't  like 
my  version,  you  may  go  and  look  for  the  history  out  of 
which  I  copied  it. 


III. 

CHARLES    THE    BOLD. 

IT  was  a  brilliant  day  in  June,  and  over  Morat's  castled 
height,  the  burning  sun  of  a  Switzer  noon  shed  down  his 
radiant  light.  It  glinted  on  hauberk,  spear,  and  shield,  on 
the  pointed  towers  of  the  old  chateau,  and  farther  off  on  the 
harvest  field,  where  lay  the  camp  of  the  foe.  It  lighted 
the  lake  with  a  golden  hue,  and  over  those  little  hills 
it  fell,  that  intercept  the  pilgrim's  view  from  the  lake  of 
Neuchatel. 

They  were  busy  in  Morat  all  the  day,  burnishing  axe 
and  edging  sword,  and  riveting  armour  for  the  fray  with  the 
stout  Burgundian  Lord. 

The  wily  Louis  Eleventh  of  France,  had  sent  them  many 
a  stalwart  lance ;  you  saw  the  eagle  of  Austria  wave  o'er 
the  Switzer  peasant,  whose  two-hand  glaive  was  shining 


132  I'YNNSHURST. 

now  iu  the  holy  light,  to  be  red  with  blood  before  the 
night. 

Fifteen  hundred  cannons  loudly  waked  the  echoes  of  rock 
and  glen,  where  the  flag  of  Charles  was  floating  proudly 
over  his  sixty  thousand  men.  They  had  come  by  old  Lan- 
sanne,  slaughtering  all  both  young  and  old ;  breathing  curse 
and  blight,  and  ban,  and  bitter  vengeance  from  Charles  the 
Bold;  for  at  Granson,  only  the  other  day,  the  Switzer 
churls  so  little  prized,  had  taught  him  how  to  run  away,  a 
kind  of  lesson  he  much  despised. 

Out  and  spake  Duke  Charles  the  Bold, 

"  By  stout  St.  George,  these  mountain  churls  shall  learn 
to-day  in  their  rugged  hold,  the  might  of  belted  knights  and 
earls.  You  have  fought  at  my  side  my  merry  men,  in  many 
a  field  and  difficult  siege,  when  we  damaged  the  lands  of  fair 
Lorraine,  and  punished  the  trading  dogs  of  Liege.  France 
hath  trembled  to  hear  of  you,  and  to-day  the  Swiss  shall 
tremble  too. 

"Onto  the  siege  I  give  you  all:  sack  and  spare  not; 
choose  the  booty ;  wine  from  cellar,  and  steed  from  stall ; 
wealthy  count  and  delicate  beauty.  Leave  them  not  a 
place  of  rest ;  mountain  top  nor  rugged  gorge ;  but  carve 
with  your  steel,  on  helm,  and  crest,  my  name,  and  the 
name  of  Stout  St.  George." 

And  the  banners  to  the  winds  were  thrown ;  pealed 
trumpet  note  and  clarion  tone,  as  the  ringing  battle  blast 
was  blown  to  the  shout  of  the  army,  "  Vive  Bourgogm  /" 


CHAKLES    THE    BOLD.  .  133 

Iii  the  city  there,  the  Switzer  clans,  and  an  hundred 
men  of  fair  Lorraine,  and  a  stalwart  troop  of  Austrians, 
Count  Herman  D'Eptingue's  gallant  train,  held  themselves 
in  fair  array,  biding  the  dawn  and  the  coming  fray. 

Mid  them  all  the  keenest  sword,  wisest  speech  at  council 
board,  freest  hand  with  golden  hoard,  was  Adrian,  Buben- 
berg's  stout  lord. 

"  Noble  knights  with  us  allied,  Lorraine's  glory,  Austria's 
pride;  and  you,  brave  hearted  Swiss,"  he  cried,  "  to-day  you 
must  make  a  valiant  stand  for  the  key  of  rocky  Switzerland. 
There  are  the  hosts  of  Charles  the  Bold,  blades  of  steel 
'neath  cloth  of  gold.  If  they  take  these  towers  they  con- 
quer all ;  with  Morat,  Switzerland  must  fall.  Swear  then 
with  me,  that  if  any  dare  parley  of  peace  with  yonder  foe, 
we  will  give  his  head  to  our  mountain  air,  his  corpse  to  the 
lake  below." 

And  they  answered  with  assenting  roar,  as  they  lifted 
their  two-edged  glaives  and  swore. 

So  the  solemn  day  past  on ;  so  the  night  had  come  and 
gone,  when,  with  the  earliest  morning  light,  Halwyl,  an 
Argovian  knight,  led  the  Bernese  to  the  plain.  Ever 
poured  the  ceaseless  rain,  rusting  helm  and  drenching 
plume,  wrapping  heaven  in  sombre  gloom,  swelling  each 
little  rivulet's  flow,  and  spoiling  the  string  of  the  archer's 
bow. 

Front  to  front  the  armies  stand,  waiting  the  fate  of  Switzer- 
land. Charles  with  his  splendid  chivalry,  full  of  confidence 


134  I'YNNSHUKST. 

and  scorn  for  fair  Lorraine's  young  duke  Rene,  and  the 
serried  ranks  of  the  peasant-born.  But  some  of  the  keen- 
est Austrian  swords  that  ever  flashed  in  a  sanguine  fray, 
and  some  of  King  Louis'  prowest  lords,  fought  in  the  Swit- 
zer  ranks  that  day. 

Many  a  gallant  hunting  hound,  had  followed  his  master 
to  the  ground,  and  now  in  wild  and  fiery  mood,  in  front 
of  either  army  stood.  They  growled  and  raised  their  brist- 
ling crests,  gnashed  their  teeth,  and  broadened  their  chests, 
till  they  heard  a  whistle's  thrilling  notes,  and  then  they 
sprang  at  each  other's  throats.  Short  and  wild  is  the  fiery 
strife,  like  that  when  two  hungry  tigers  meet ;  many  a  good 
hound  loses  his  life,  and  at  last  the  Prankish  dogs  retreat. 
And  the  Switzer  army  is  not  slack  to  shout  as  their  dogs 
come  bounding  back. 

Out  and  spake  then  Halwyl's  knight. 

"  There,  my  men,  is  your  cruel  foe.  Think  of  the  bloody 
Granson  fight,  where  they  laid  your  brethren  stark  and  low  ; 
think  of  the  blood  which  flowed  the  night  that  they  con- 
quered Brie,  and  waste  not  a  blow.  Mow  them  down  in 
their  bloody  path.  Smite  like  the  thunder  when  God  is 
wrath.  They  are  more  than  you,  but  they  were  more  at 
Laupen  by  the  Sane's  rude  shore. 

"  The  same  Lord  governs  the  earth  as  then  ;  ye  are  the 
sons  of  those  Laupen  men ;  the  self-same  spirit  is  in  your 
clay,  then  fight  as  your  fath'ers  fought  that  day.  Each 
must  fight  as  though  he  were  all.  Every  heart  is  its  coun- 


CHARLES    THE    BOLD.  135 

I 

try's  wall.  Now  to  your  knees,  and  ask  the  Blest  to  hear 
and  grant  the  patriot's  prayer :  then  blade  in  hand,  then 
lance  in  rest,  and  swoop  ye  down  on  the  Temeraire  !" 

Just  as  they  kneeled,  the  sun  broke  through ;  soft  through 
the  clouds  shone  the  welkin  blue,  and  the  grey  mist  glowed 
like  a  warrior's  targe,  as  the  chieftains  shouted  the  order, 

"  Charge !" 

Then  as  the  mountain  torrent  leaps  from  the  icy  glacier's 
breast  that  bore  it ;  so  as  the  maddened  water  sweeps  the 
weight  off  the  very  rocks  before  it ;  so  as  the  avalanche  of 
snow  breaks  from  its  lofty,  cold  abode,  and  hurls  itself  on 
the  woods  below,  a  missile  launched  by  the  arm  of  God 
— so  did  the  men  of  Morat  go  ;  so  did  their  deadly  broad- 
swords mow  the  harvest  of  death  among  the  foe  ;  and  helms 
were  cleft  at  a  single  blow,  and  gore  flowed  free  as  the  rivers 
flow,  when  the  spring  sun  melts  the  Alpine  snow.  Lance 
heads  pierced  through  the  cuirass  backs  ;  limbs  were  lopped 
by  the  battle-axe ;  sword-blows  fell  like  the  summer  rain  ; 
maces  dashed  fast  through  casque  and  brain;  while  ever 
over  the  bloody  wold  pealed  the  cannon  of  Charles  the 
Bold. 

By  the  thick  hedge  over  there  Charles  had  placed  his 
battery ;  and  ever  its  thick  smoke  filled  the  air,  and  its 
shot  swept  down  the  enemy.  It  opened  the  Switzers'  sturdy 
flanks  and  broke  the  knightly  Austrian  ranks.  Young  Duke 
Rene's  horse  is  slain  ;  fall  the  men  of  fair  Loraine  as  falls 


136  PYNXSHURST. 

• 

the  bearded  harvest  pale,  beneath  the  fiercely  beatincr 
hail. 

'Twixt  Courlevon  and  Bac  le  Grange,  Charles  had  bid  his 
armies  range.  In  the  centre,  stout  Crevecoeur,  knight  sans 
reproche  et  sans  peur,  by  the  Prince  of  Orange  stood  near 
the  spearmen's  serried  wood.  Off  on  the  left  there,  by  the 
tree,  the  glaives  of  the  bastard  Anthony,  and  of  his  gallant 
jackmen  shine,  with  wild  Adolph  Von  Ravenstein.  On 
the  right  wing,  meetly  met,  are  Charles  and  the  Duke  of 
Somerset. 

Then  brave  Hahvyl  leads  his  ranks  full  on  the  Burgun- 
dian  flanks  ;  Waldman  forms  a  wedge  to  enter  in  the  closely 
serried  centre ;  the  Bernese  fall  on  the  battery,  and  the 
sturdy  gunners  fall  or  fly.  The  guns  are  turned  'gainst 
their  former  master,  the  death  hail  rattles  fast  and  faster ; 
Bubenberg  sallies  from  the  walls  and  on  the  crushed  batal- 
lions  falls. 

Then  a  shout  peals  o'er  the  fray.  "The  Switzer  churls 
have  won  the  day."  The  Temeraire  has  turned  his  back  and 
swims  the  lake  on  a  sumpter  mule.  The  good  Burgundiana 
are  not  slack  to  follow  their  gallant  Prince's  rule.  Only 
the  little  English  band  are  cut  in  pieces  where  they  stand, 
and  two  Swiss  halberts  both  have  met  in  the  cloven  skull  of 
Somerset. 

Such  was  the  fray,  as  legends  tell,  fought  upon  Morat's 
grassy  fell.  It  left  the  mountaineers  as  free  as  the  very  sons 
of  Liberty ;  it  taught  the  fiery  Charles  the  Bold  that  his 


CHARLES    THE    BOU).  13*7 

temper  ought  to  be  controlled ;  it  killed  the  English  for 
Charles's  sake,  and  fattened  the  fish  in  Morat's  lake. 

Much  brave  booty  the  Swiss  had  got,  in  the  rich  Burgun- 
dian  camp  ;  goblets  where  the  wine  was  not ;  encensoir  and 
jeweled  lamp ;  armor  cleft,  and  broken  spear ;  battle-axe  and 
cuirass  dear ;  many  a  trump  and  many  a  drum,  and  a  rich, 
embroidered  collar  which  they  show  you  yet  in  the  museum 
for  the  price  of  half-a-dollar. 

THIS    IS    THE    END    OF    THE    CHRONICLE. 


IV. 

FBJB  o  UR  G. 

AND  so,  by  a  wild  American-looking  route ;  through 
herds  of  superbest  cows  with  church-bells  around  their 
necks ;  by  peasants  and  by  others  who  are  taught  from 
earliest  childhood  to  lift  their  hats  in  salutation  of  the 
stranger ;  by  occasional  beggars  who  kiss  their  hands  before 
they  hold  them  out  to  receive  your  alms ;  and  who  answer 
"  God  bless  you,"  when  you  refuse  them,  and  by  groups  of 
red-capped  women  in  white  upper  affairs,  whose  name  I  do 
not  know.  Hugh  trotted  along  level  roads  or  dismounted  to 
walk  up  hills,  until  he  entered  the  village  of  Didingen, 
where  he  stopped  to  bait  his  horse,  and  to  visit  an  ox- 
feorn  preserved  in  the  church  for  a  reason  sufficiently 
singular. 

In  the  wars  which  Fribourg  constantly  waged  with  its 


FRIBOURG.  139 

neighbors,  the  scattered  hamlets  which  now  form  the  parish 
of  Didingen  were  in  danger  of  attack.  One  church  in  the 
centre  served  for  all ;  and  in  this  church  was  a  case 
of  relics  highly  venerated,  the  only  wealth  of  this  poor 
people. 

They  knew  that  if  they  were  beaten,  they  would  lose 
their  relics ;  so,  after  meet  deliberation,  they  chose  an  ox, 
and  fastened  the  case  between  his  horns,  and  then  turning 
his  head  toward  the  mountain,  goaded  him  well,  shouting 
and  screaming  and  waving  fire-brands. 

The  contemplative  animal,  entirely  roused  from  his  usual 
calm  habitudes,  stood  quiet  for  one  minute  as  if  lost  in 
astonishment,  then  burst  off  in  full  gallop,  nor  stopped  until 
he  found  himself  safe  among  the  mountains. 

The  enemy  came  on ;  the  Didingers  were  beaten ;  the 
church  was  searched,  and  when  nothing  was  found  in  it,  the 
foe  retired. 

The  good  peasants  then  went  in  search  of  the  ox,  whom 
they  found  with  the  treasure  safely  bound  to  his  horns.  So 
they  preserved  his  horns  in  honor  of  the  service  which  he 
had  rendered  them.  One  has  been  lately  lost,  but  the 
other  still  hangs  in  the  sacristy,  the  solitary  lion  of 
Didingen. 

And  now,  in  a  few  minutes,  from  the  horizon  before  him, 
towers  begin  to  rise,  and  pointed  bell  turrets,  and  a  long 
white  line  that  marks  the  bridge,  and  at  last,  just  as  he 


140  I'YNXSHURST. 

passes  the  large  roadside  crucifix  there,  he  stops  to  look  at 
Fribourg,  the  Rome  of  Switzerland. 

Not  many  cities  do  you  see  like  it.  Upon  an  Alp 
almost  surrounded  by  the  noisy  Sarine,  cluster  the  build- 
ings, circled  by  a  thick  wall.  On  all  the  heights  stand 
ancient  towers,  massive  and  gloomy,  black  with  the  lapse  of 
time,  and  pierced  with  narrow  loop-holes,  wherefrom  to 
return  the  compliments  of  besiegers. 

There  to  the  left,  across  a  chasrn  horribly  profound ; 
and  lined  with  black  bristling  rocks,  amid  which,  two 
hundred  feet  below,  the  river  runs,  stretches  the  wire- 
bridge,  nearly  a  thousand  feet  in  length,  and  twenty- 
five  in  breadth.  Further  on,  is  another  bridge,  smaller 
and  painted  black.  Near  the  pilgrim  are  country  houses  • 
before  him  an  agglomerated  mass,  topped  by  the  mighty 
roof,  cross-tipped  and  crowned  by  a  superb  square  tower,  of 
the  Collegiate  Church  of  St.  Nicholas. 

So  he  trots  through  the  gate  of  Morat,  under  the  black 
and  white  shield ;  passes  the  house  whose  cross  of  white 
marble  marks  the  residence  of  the  only  Protestant  minister, 
who  touches  his  hat  from  the  window  as  the  voyager 
goes  by. 

Past  the  old  church  of  Notre  Dame,  and  the  new 
one  of  the  Visitation  ;  past  the  convents  and  churches 
of  the  Capucins  and  Cordeliers ;  through  the  fish-market 
and  across  the  place  where  the  militia  are  manoeuver- 


ruiHOUKi;.  141 

ing ;  round  the  Church  of'  St.  Nicholas,  and  so  to  the 
capital  Hotel  de  Zcehringen,  at  the  head  of  the  wire- 
bridge. 


V. 

LION   HUNTING. 

BEFORE  he  had  shaken  the  dust  from  off  his  feet,  there 
came  an  invitation  to  supper,  and  another  to  dinner  the 
next  day,  and  a  third  to  breakfast,  and  a  fourth  to  supper 
No.  2  ;  for,  of  all  the  people  on  the  face  of  the  globe,  the 
Fribourgeois  are  the  most  hospitable. 

So  he  accepted  all  but  the  breakfasts,  and  in  the  glow  of 
the  reception,  felt  for  a  moment,  as  if  he  were  not  a 
"  stranger  in  a  strange  land." 

"  But,"  said  he  to  himself,  "  if  these  kind  hearts  go  on  at 
this  rate,  I  shall  see  precious  little  of  Fribourg  except  the 
tables." 

Therefore  he  made  what  haste  he  could  to  be  undusted  ; 
and  ran  off  to  St.  Nicholas,  and  to  get  a  look  at  the  church 
before  the  shadows  of  evening  should  fall. 


LION    HUNTING.  143 

First,  he  looked  at  the  grand  portal,  decidedly  the  finest 
he  had  ever  seen,  vast  and  arching,  and  covered  with  well- 
wrought  bas-reliefs,  where  the  last  Judgment  is  set  forth, 
and  devils  carry  off  in  mighty  panniers,  not  only  common 
folks  but  popes  and  bishops,  emperors  and  kings. 

Higher  up  is  a  rosace  or  circular  window  of  surprising 
beauty ;  and  then,  the  eye  mounts  up  over  frieze  and  fret- 
work to  the  pinnacles  that  terminate  the  tower,  two  hundred 
feet  in  height ;  it  is  the  loftiest  tower  in  Switzerland,  as  the 
nave  is  the  highest  in  Fribourg,  and  the  city  the  highest  in 
Europe. 

Enter  the  nave  now,  I  don't  know  how  many  feet  by 
half  as  many  more,  and  terminated  by  a  chancel  whose 
dimensions  "conform."  Clusters  of  columns,  on  each  side, 
support  seven  arches  which  mark  the  aisles ;  each  bears  a 
saint  under  a  sculptured  canopy.  Then  longer  columns  rise 
to  hold  the  ribbed  roof  studded  with  shields.  The  font  and 
pulpit  are  of  stone,  and  covered  with  remarkable  beauty. 
Within  the  aisles  are  sixteen  altars  ;  and  a  superb  iron  rood 
screen  guards  the  high  altar. 

Within  the  chancel  the  collegiate  stalls  are  in  old  oak 
magnificently  carved ;  back  in  the  tower  is  the  organ  which 
contains  the  celebrated  human  voice,  the  finest  in  the  world ; 
pretty  good  pictures  grace  the  walls ;  and  the  whole  view 
of  the  church  is  solemn  and  religious.  It  has  no  fine  glass, 
however.  Its  date  is  1480. 

Then  he  went  to  the  place,  where  the  wounded  soldier, 


144  PYNNSHURST. 

who  had  run  from  Morat,  waving  a  linden  branch,  fell  dead 
after  shouting  "  Victory,"  the  first  news  of  the  defeat  of 
Charles  the  Bold.  They  planted  the  branch  ;  it  grew  and 
flourished,  and  now  stands  there  well  guarded,  but  respect- 
able only  for  its  age  and  memories.  It  is  a  kind  of  weather 
aw  for  the  Fribourgeois  ;  they  clothe  themselves  for  winter, 
when  the  leaves  begin  to  drop,  and  take  off  their  .mufflings 
when  they  come  again. 

And  now,  he  must  to  supper,  no  trifle  here,  to  taste 
the  hospitality  of  the  patricians,  and  to  plan  a  tour  for 
to-morrow. 


Morning  rose  bright  and  fair  over  the  heights  of  the  city 
as  Hugh  Pynnshurst  went  to  the  church  of  the  Capucins. 
About  it  there  is  nothing  remarkable  but  its  appearance  of 
age.  It  belongs  to  the  order,  which  the  radical  government 
has  treated  in  appearance  less  severely,  but  in  reality  no 
less  so,  than  the  other  religions. 

When  the  Jesuits,  etc.,  were  chased  from  the  Canton  the 
Capucins  were  permitted  to  remain,  fulfilling  the  duties  of 
their  office.  But  no  novice  can  be  taken,  no  new  member 
enrolled,  and  time  will  destroy  them  or  bring  about  freer 
laws.  One  died  the  other  day  at  the  age  of  one  hundred 
and  two ;  after  his  calm  cloister  life  of  prayer  and  toil  going 
to  get  his  reward. 


LION    HUNTING.  145 

After  breakfast,  he  went  to  seek  the  party  formed  to 
accompany  him,  and  they  started  to  make  the  circuit  of  the 
city. 

They  start  from  the  hotel  Zoehringen,  where  used  to 
stand  the  hotel  of  the  Counts  of  Thierstein,  and  cross  the 
bridge  which  is  not  only  the  wonder  of  Fribourg,  but  one  of 
the  finest  works  of  art  perhaps  in  the  world.  Eight  cables, 
each  of  five  hundred  wires,  banded  together,  pass  at  each 
end  through  strong  towers,  and  are  wedged  solidly  into  the 
living  rock  to  the  depth  of  sixty  feet.  These  can  support  a 
weight  of  six  millions,  seven  hundred  and  sixty  thousand 
pounds ! 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Pynnshurst,  you  should  have  been  here  when 
the  bridge  was  blessed,"  cried  one  fair  dame  of  the  party, 
"  All  the  clergy,  all  the  military,  and  all  the  city,  I  believe^ 
were  on  the  bridge,  and  towards  the  end  of  the  benediction, 
as  the  crowd  moved  hither  and  thither,  it  began  to  sway 
and  swing.  Then  it  was  sauve  qui  peut.  And  the  rushing 
of  the  people  only  made  the  motion  worse,  and  if  it  had 
not  been  for  the  bishop,  many  would  have  been  crushed  to 
death ;  but  he  went  about  giving  his  benediction,  and 
telling  the  people  to  be  quiet,  and  that  there  was  no 
danger  ;  so  they  all  got  safely  off.  One  droll  thing  was  to 
see  the  good  old  Vicar-General,  who  started  for  the  end  at 
the  first  oscillation,  got  upon  terra  firma,  flung  his  surplice  to 
a  sacristan,  and  trotted  off  to  the  church,  saying  that  "  they 
7 


146  I'YSNSHURST. 

might  bless  iron  bridges  who  would,  he  washed  his  hands 
of  it." 

"  Yet  one  cannot  conceive  this  huge  mass  swinging," 
replied  Hugh.  "  What  a  tremendous  affair  this  is  !"  and  he 
laid  his  hand  on  one  of  the  great  cables. 

"  Yes,  stout  enough  to  all  appearance,"  said  the  lady. 
"  I  know  a  story  of  those  cables  too ;  shall  I  tell  you  that  ?" 

'"Of  all  things,"  said  Hugh,  u I  like  a  good  story,  well 
told  ;  and  I  am  sure  of  both  from  you." 

"  Thank  you.  Well  then,  when  those  two  cables,  each 
as  thick  as  your  arm,  were  first  stretched  across  the  chasm, 
find  before  they  were  bound  together,  the  architect,  a 
Frenchman,  placed  himself  astride  of  them,  and  drew 
himself  by  the  help  of  his  hands  from  one  end  to  the 
other." 

"  Faith  ! "  said  Hugh,  "  I  know  one  man  that  won't  follow 
his  example." 

"  And  I  know  one,"  continued  the  lady,  "  who  did ;  or 
rather  who  exceeded  him." 

"  The  name  of  the  hero,  Madam." 

"  It  was  Laurent,  a  drunken  cobbler ;  well  known  to 
all  the  city  for  a  harmless,  worthless  fellow.  When  the 
people  cheered  the  adventurous  architect,  poor  Laurent's 
pride  was  hurt." 

" '  Pooh ! '  said  he,  '  do  you  cheer  a  Frenchman  for 
straddling  across  in  that  way  ?  I  know  a  Fribourgeois 


UON    HUNTING.  147 

who  will  walk  across  if  you  will  give  him  a  bottle  of 
wine.' 

"  '  That's  yourself,  Laurent,  I  fancy,'  said  some  one  in  the 
crowd.  '  Well,  I  will  give  you  the  bottle.' 

"  The  people  laughed  at  Laurent  as  he  climbed  up  and 
balanced  himself  upon  the  wires,  not  expecting  him  to  stand 
upright  even  above  the  land.  But  he  started  off,  and 
before  he  could  be  stopped  he  was  ten  feet  from  the 
brink. 

"  Then  a  silence  fell  upon  the  crowd,  and  they  held  their 
breath,  with  their  eyes  fixed  upon  him.  He  had  more  than 
passed  the  middle,  walking  on  those  trembling  wires,  no 
thicker  than  his  arm  ;  and  below  him  was  the  terrible 
yawning  chasm  one  hundred  and  seventy  feet. 

"  Suddenly  he  staggered  and  threw  up  his  arms ;  a  thrill 
of  horror  passed  through  the  crowd.  Yet  his  motion  was 
but  a  tipsy  bravado,  and  he  reached  the  other  side  in  safety, 
drank  his  bottle  of  wine,  and  offered  to  walk  back  for 
another.  But  the  people  would  not  suffer  it.  And  now 
Mr.  Pynnshurst,  we  are  in  the  centre  of  the  bridge  ;  look 
below  and  around  you." 

As  he  looked  downward,  she  threw  a  card  before  him ; 
and  he  watched  it  as  it  went  wavering  and  fluttering  down, 
down.  He  thought  it  would  never  stop ;  he  grew  dizzy> 
and  drew  back  his  head. 

The  lady  smiled. 


148  PYNXSHURST. 

"  You  are  not  so  well  accustomed  to  it  as  we  are,"  she 
said. 

The  smile  hurt  the  proud  man,  and  tender  as  he  was  to 
the  weaknesses  of  others,  he  was  violent  to  his  own.  He 
grasped  a  bar  with  each  hand,  and  bending  his  head  over 
the  parapet,  looked  steadfastly  below.  The  vertigo  returned ; 
he  grew  faint  and  sick ;  the  bridge  seemed  to  leave  his  feet ; 
his  brain  reeled  and  swain  ;  he  felt  the  sensation  of  falling  ; 
but  his  will  was  strong,  and  it  conquered.  He  kept  his 
position  till  the  giddiness  had  passed,  and  then  raised  his 
head.  His  face  was  as  white  as  ashes. 

"  I  see,"  said  his  companion  gravely,  "  that  you  are  very 
proud." 

"  Pardon  me,"  he  answered,  "  I  am  at  least  very  foolish." 

So  he  looked  about  him.  To  the  left  was  the  city,  to 
the  right  the  old  towers  mentioned  before,  each  on  a  lofty 
hill.  In  front,  a  lovely  landscape,  smiling  in  the  summer 
sun,  with  the  roofs  of  the  houses,  along  the  Sarine,  beneath 
his  feet.  Turning,  he  saw  the  second  bridge,  and  up  on 
the  heights  of  Bourguillon,  the  exquisite  little  chapel  of 
Loretto ;  the  German  quarter  lay  at  the  foot  of  the  moun- 
tain ;  the  wild  gorge  of  the  Gotheron  displayed  itself  before 
him,  and  sunbeams  kissed,  in  all  directions,  the  cross  of 
convent  or  of  church. 

At  the  end  of  the  first,  and  beginning  of  .the  second 
bridge  is  a  toll-gate,  whose  keeper  lives  in  a  series  of  cham- 
bers hewn  in  the  solid  calcaire  of  the  mountain.  Something 


LION    HUNTING.  149 

in  the  same  style  as  the  Hermitage  of  La  Madelaine,  about 
half  a  league  from  Fribourg,  cut  out  by  a  hermit  not  many 
years  ago.  It  is,  however,  much  more  complete  than  the 
toll -keeper's  lodging,  for  it  possesses  a  church  and  steeple,  a 
sacristy,  a  kitchen,  cells,  cellars,  and  nearly  all  things  neces- 
sary for  a  miniature  convent. 

So  now  they  cross  the  savage  gorge,  and  mount  the  hill 
to  Notre  Dame  de  Lorette.  Copied  exactly  from  the 
original,  within,  and  without.  The  four  Evangelists  and 
other  saints  in  statues  as  large  as  life  decorate  the  outside 
walls ;  within,  is  the  rough  brick  chapel  with  its  simple  altar. 
The  bricks  are  nearly  hidden  with  ex-votos,  thanksgivings 
for  mercies  received  from  the  All  Merciful.  In  the  little 
crypt  below,  are  benches  and  an  altar. 

A  descent  then  brought  them  to  the  convent  and  church 
of  the  Capucines.  Some  poor  were  in  the  hall  eating  the 
meal,  which  the  rule  forbids  the  Sisters  to  refuse  to  any  that 
may  ask  it ;  the  church  is  handsome  inside,  after  the 
Italian  fashion ;  and  they  were  yet  in  it  when  a  servitor 
requested  them  to  mount  to  the  parlor. 

A  carpetless  room,  with  one  table  and  six  wooden  chairs, 
is  the  finest  in  the  house.  On  one  side,  a  massive  iron 
grating  separates  a  space  of  six  or  eight  feet  square,  which 
communicates  with  the  cloisters  by  a  door. 

When  the  party  were  quietly  seated,  this  door  opened 
and  two  sisters  entered  in  the  coarse,  brown  robe  of  their 
order  ;  their  faces  framed  by  the  folds  of  white  muslin  that 


150  PYNNSHURST. 

hid  the  forehead,  and  passed  under  the  chin,  their  hands 
crossed  on  their  breasts,  their  meek  eyes  raised  for  a  moment 
and  then  abased  again ;  the  low,  calm  sweetness  of  their 
voices  and  the  religious  gentleness  which  seemed  like  a  halo 
round  them,  moved  the  soul  of  Hugh  Pynnshurst  till  he 
could  have  wept. 

One  of  the  sisters  was  eighty-four  years  old ;  sixty  of 
those  years  had  been  passed  in  prayer,  and  labor,  and  kind 
charities ;  and  still  she  wore  upon  her  features  the  same  look 
as  her  companion,  a  look  of  that  ineffable  holy  peace  which 
you  find  in  Murillo's  Madonnas. 

Hugh  offered  an  alms  and  begged  some  little  token  of 
remembrance ;  and  they  gave  him  a  snail  shell,  in  which  a 
little  Capucine  looks  out  from  behind  a  grating  of  lace. 

"  Think  of  the  radicals  harassing  those  poor  sisters,"  said 
one  of  the  party,  "  sending  a  committee  to  inquire  if  they 
had  no  cause  of  complaint." 

"  Yes,  and  the  same  committee  were  at  the  other  side  of 
the  city  with  the  same  questions  for  the  Capucins  fathers," 
said  another.  "They  asked  Father  Antoine  if  he  had 
nothing  to  complain  of." 

"  If  I  had,"  said  the  old  man,  "  it  would  not  be  to  you 
that  I  would  tell  it ;  but  to  the  Bishop.  Who  are  you  ?" 

"  We  are  delegates  of  the  people,"  was  the  answer. 

"  Pooh,  pooh,"  said  the  father,  "  I  have  been  that  much 
myself  these  sixty  years." 


LION    HUNTING.  151 

"  Where,  pray,"  was  the  question,  "  have  you  represented 
the  people  ?" 

"  Before  God,"  said  he,  "  to  whom  I  am  soon  going  ;  and 
I  will  make  my  complaints  to  Him." 

"And  now,  Mr.  Pynnshurst,"  she  continued,  "you  have 
seen  the  Capucines,  let  us  go  now  to  the  sisters  of  St. 
Bernard." 

"  Volontiers,"  said  Hugh,  and  they  ran  down  a  street 
like  a  precipice  to  the  abode  of  the  white-robed  sisters. 

"  Can  we  see  Sceur  Ursule  ?"  was  demanded.  And  for  an 
affirmative  answer,  the  door  opened,  and  out  came  Sister 
Ursula,  the  cousin  of  half  the  party,  rolling  out  a  volume 
of  French  and  German  with  the  hugest  rapidity.  She  put 
her  hand  through  the  grating  to  her  lady  cousins,  and  asked 
them  for  their  fathers,  mothers,  brothel's,  sisters,  relatives, 
and  acquaintances,  concluding  her  catechism  with, 

"  Whom  have  you  got  there  1" 

"  It  is  a  gentleman  from  America,  Sceur  Ursule." 

"  From  America,  ma  foi !  that's  a  long  way  off.  It  is 
the  other  side  of  the  Alps." 

"Yes,  fifteen  hundred  leagues  away  from  here,"  said 
Hugh,  approaching  the  grating. 

"  Dear  me,"  she  cried,  "  that's  a  great  distance ;  and  you 
are  no  blacker  than  I  am.  From  America,  eh  ?  Ah  then, 
in  that  case,  you  know  Father  Steinfleet ;  he  is  there." 

"  It  is  a  large  place,  my  sister,"  said  Hugh,  "  in  what 
part  of  it  is  the  Rev.  Father  ?" 


152 

"  He  is  at  Rio  Janeiro  ;  is  not  that  near  you  ?" 

"  Some  thousand  or  two  miles  off,"  said  Hugh. 

"  Ah,  St.  Bernard  !  it  must  be  a  large  place  indeed.  And 
you  are  come  all  the  way  to  Fribourg.  Wait  a  minute,  I'll 
give  you  a  little  mutton,"  and  away  she  ran,  and  brought 
back  some  little  lambs  made  of  wool,  which  she  distributed 
to  the  party. 

"  There,"  she  said  to  Hugh,  "  carry  that  back  to  America, 
and  tell  them  that  old  Sister  Ursule  gave  it  to  you,  in  the 
Convent  of  the  Bernardines  at  Fribourg." 

Hugh  promised  to  keep  it  faithfully,  and  so,  with  his 
companions,  took  leave. 

Descending  still  farther,  they  passed  through  the  Bour- 
gillon  gate,  entered  the  lower  city,  and  climbed  to  the  upper 
by  a  stone  staircase  of  some  two  hundred  steps,  and  came 
out  upon  the  grand  place. 

"  It  is  here  that  they  used  to  build  the  Chateau  d' Amour 
in  the  good  old  time,"  said  his  informant. 

"  Ah,  what  a  pretty  name,"  answered  Pynnshurst,  "  pray 
what  was  it,  and  who  was  the  chatelaine ;  and  why  did 
they  take  it  away  ?" 

"  Which  question  shall  I  answer  first  ?" 

"  What  was  it,  if  you  please  ?" 

"  It  was  Chateau  Amour.  And  long  ago,  here  on  the 
Grand  Place,  they  built  a  wooden  fortress,  adorned  with 
emblems,  ciphers,  and  tender  devices.  Charged  with  the 


LION    HUNTING.  153 

defence  of  this,  the  fairest  maidens  of  the  city  and  its  en- 
virons took  possession  on  the  first  of  May. 

Soon  the  young  men,  in  their  best  gala  dress,  came  in 
crowds  to  attack  it.  The  bands  of  the  city  sounded  the 
charge  with  the  softest  airs  which  they  knew.  On  both 
sides,  flowers  were  the  only  arms.  They  warred  with 
wreaths,  and  bouquets,  and  garlands,  and  when  this  inno- 
cent artillery  was  quite  exhausted,  the  drums  beat  the 
chamade  (parley),  and  a  white  flag  was  unfurled  on  the 
to  were  of  the  chateau. 

Then  the  articles  of  capitulation  were  agreed  upon,  one 
of  which  always  was,  that  every  dame  should  choose  her 
conqueror,  and  give  for  ransom  a  kiss  and  a  rose.  Then 
they  retired  to  the  windows  of  their  houses,  and  the 
besiegers  mounted  their  horses  and  promenaded  the  streets, 
while  their  fair  enemies  drenched  them  with  perfumed 
waters  from  the  windows.  A  ball  closed  the  fete  at 
night. 

"  So  fade  old  customs,"  said  Hugh,  "  do  they  get  any 
better  ones  in  their  place  ?" 

"  Yes,  sometimes ;  down  yonder  they  used  to  burn  the 
Jews  for  sorcery." 

"  Ah,  decidedly  a  change  for  the  better.  But  were  there 
many  Jews  here  ?" 

"  Oh  yes ;  in  the  twelfth  century  there  was  a  synagogue 
here.  And  we  have  a  hymn,  which,  with  some  variations, 
7* 


154  PVTNXSJIUKSI. 

nurses  still  sing  to  children,  and  which  was  sung  by  those 
ancient  people  six  hundred  years  ago." 

"  Ah,  you  must  repeat  it  to  me." 

"  I  cannot ;  I  have  forgotten  it ;  but  nurse  shall  tell  it  to 
you  after  dinner." 

"  If  I  be  a  good  child,  I  suppose,"  said  Hugh,  smiling. 

"  Precisely  ;  and  now  to  begin  your  goodness,  let  us  go 
peaceably  to  dinner." 

After  dinner  the  hymn  was  produced,  and  Hugh,  to  his 
vast  astonishment,  found,  in  the  wail  of  this  stricken  people, 
the  original  of  "  The  House  that  Jack  Built,"  and  of  that 
most  thrilling  of  legends,  the  history  of  "  The  Kid  that 
wouldn't  go  over  the  bridge  to  get  the  bonny  bunch  of 
blackberries." 

He  wrote  it  down  as  he  heard  it,  in  French.  I  will 
give  his  version,  and  then  will  translate  it  myself;  for 
which  services,  let  all  infant  antiquaries  bless  my  memory. 

"  Mon  Pere  (Dieu)  a  achete  un  chevreau  (Israel)  pour 
deux  deniers  (Mo'ise  et  Aaron). 

Le  chat  (les  Assyriens)  vint  devorer  le  chevreau  que 
mon  pere  avait  achete  pour  deux  deniers. 

Le  chien  (les  Babyloniens)  mordit  le  chat  qni  devorait  le 
chevreau,  etc. 

Le  baton  (Cyrus)  battit  le  chien  qui  mordait  le  ch£t 
qui,  etc. 


N    HUNTING.  155 


Le  feu  (Alexandre)  brula  le  baton  qui  battait  le  chien 
qui,  etc. 

L'eau  (les  Romains)  eteignait  le  feu  qui  brulait  le 
baton,  etc. 

Le  boeuf  (les  Sarrasins)  but  1'eau  que  eteignait  le  feu 
qui,  etc. 

Le  schochet  (boucher)  tua  le  boeuf  qui  buvait  I'eau  qui, 
etc. 

Malek  Hamavet  (VAnge  de  la  Afort)  extermina  le 
boucher,  qui  tuait  le  boeuf,  qui  buvait  1'  eau,  qui  Eteignait  le 
feu,  qui  brulait,  etc." 


DONE    INTO    ENGLISH    BY    A    PERSON    OF    QUALITY. 

My  Father  bought  Israel  his  kid  for  two  pennies. 

The  wild  cat  of  Syria  came  to  devour  the  kid  that  my 
father  had  bought  for  two  pennies. 

The  dog  of  Babylon  bit  the  cat,  that  devoured  the  kid, 
that,  etc. 

Cyrus,  the  stick  then  beat  the  dog,  that  bit  the  cat,  that, 
etc. 

Alexander,  the  fire  burnt  the  stick,  that  beat  the  dog, 
that  bit,  etc. 

The  Roman  water  quenched  the  fire,  that  burnt  the 
stick,  etc. 


156  PYNNSHUBST. 

The  Saracen  ox  drank  the  water,  that  quenched  the  fire, 
that,  etc. 

The  butcher  killed  the  ox,  that  drank  the  water,  that, 
etc. 

And  the  Angel  of  Death  destroyed  the  butcher,  that 
killed  the  ox,  that  drank  the  water,  that  quenched  the  fire, 
that  burnt  the  stick,  that  beat  the  dog,  that  bit  the  cat, 
that  eat  the  kid  which  my  Father  had  bought  for  two 
pennies 


VI. 

ALONU    THE    SARINE. 

BREAKFAST,  to  his  great  surprise,  Hugh  Pynnshurst  was 
very  well  able  to  attend  to.  And  that  respectable  meal, 
pleasantest  duty  of  the  morning,  causer  of  the  first  smile  of 
the  stomach,  being  thoroughly  discussed,  he  paid  his  bill, 
passed  round  to  say  sever  il  adieus,  sent  his  baggage  by 
diligence  to  Berne,  and  started  on  foot,  staff  in  hand,  from 
the  southern  port  of  Fribourg,  following  the  course  of  the 
Sarine. 

The  day  was  beautiful ;  a  few  light  clouds  drifted  lazily 
along  the  sky,  shutting  out  from  time  to  time  the  sun,  and 
permitting  the  pedestrian  to  walk  for  a  minute  bare-headed, 
and  a  very  great  luxury  that  is  too. 

The  king-fisher,  or  something  like  him,  flitted  from 
bank  to  bank  of  the  Sarine,  and  when  once  a  little  way 


158  I'YKNSHUKST. 

from  the  city,  the  patient  stork  shot  up  his  long  neck  like 
a  spy-glass,  tucked  one  long  leg  away  somewhere  under  his 
feathers,  and  stood  there  on  the  other  long  leg,  with  his 
head  lackadaisically  on  one  side,  the  very  image  of  intense 
imbecility.  But  woe  to  the  small  fish  that  took  him  for  a 
fool  and  came  too  near  the  edge ;  pop !  down  went  the  leg, 
out  went  the  neck,  snap  went  the  bill,  "  wabble,"  said  the 
throat,  and  the  small  fish  floundered  hopelessly  'mid  the 
gastric  juices  of  the  stork. 

The  bright  waters  tumbled  over  one  another,  and  seemed 
so  habituated  to  twisting  round  rocks  and  flowing  in  circles 
or  figures  of  eight,  or  turning  face  and  going  headlong  back 
towards  the  source  for  a  hundred  yards,  and  then  repenting 
and  rolling  their  tides  in  the  first  direction,  that  even  when 
they  were  forced  to  run  straight  between  rocky  walls,  they 
made  small  whirlpools,  and  seemed  always  trying  to  climb 
up  or  flow  up  their  perpendicular  banks. 

Along  this,  marched  the  resolute  traveller,  stopping  now 
and  then  at  an  auberge  for  a  glass  of  beer,  until  at  length  he 
arrived  at  Hauterive,  once  so  celebrated. 

Here  he  found  a  convent  of  Cistercians,  a  few  of  whom 
were  yet  permitted  to  remain,  and  who  welcomed  the  visitor 
with  kind  hospitality. 

The  abbey  was  founded  in  1137,  by  Count  William  de 
Glane,  and  afterwards  aided  by  various  Princes.  It  stands 
in  a  valley  hemmed  in  by  precipitous  rocks,  and  the  Sarine 
winds  embrncingly  round  it.  It  is  a  huge,  square  affair,  with 


ALONG    THE    SAKINK.  159 

a  court  and  portico  in  the  centre.  Around  it  are  the  mills, 
the  smithies,  the  carpenter  shops,  and  dairies,  for  they  are 
of  all  trades,  these  monks,  and  live  entirely  by  the  labor  of 
their  own  hands ;  Pynnshurst  learned  of  them,  that  like 
Cesar's  Nervii  Niillum  adituni  esse  cd  eos  mercatoribus  ; 
nihil  pati  rerum  ad  luxuriam  pertinentium  inferri. 

They  have,  however,  a  fine  library,  a  cabinet  of  Natural 
History,  and  another  of  medals.  The  church  is  very  ancient, 
but  of  an  architecture  unknown  to  ecclesiologists. 

A  league  or  so  further  on,  Hugh  saw  a  golden  lion 
gibbeted  before  a  house,  and  in  answer  to  his  inquiries,  they 
told  him  that  he  was  in  Bulle.  As  he  had  been  obliged  to 
climb  a  very  high  hill,  by  a  very  bad  road,  in  order  to  get 
there,  he  determined  to  stay  to  dinner. 

"  Give  me,"  said  he,  "  if  you  please,  a  chicken." 

"Monsieur,  we  have  none,  but  we  have  some  capital 
veal." 

"  I  don't  like  veal,"  said  Hugh,  "  can  you  not  give  me  a 
mutton  cutlet,  or  a  bit  of  filet  de  boeuf  ?" 

"  Very  sorry,  Monsieur,  but  we  are  just  out  of  both.  Has 
Monsieur  ever  tasted  our  Bulle  veal  ?" 

"  No,"  said  Pynnshurst,  "  and  I  never  mean  to,  if  I  can 
help  it ;  could  you  make  me  an  omelette  ?" 

"  I  will  see  in  a  moment,"  said  the  hand-maiden. 
s  "Do,"  said  the  hungry  man,  "and  give  me,  meanwhile, 
some  bread  and  a  bottle  of  wine." 

So   the  maiden  brought  them,  and  very  sour  wa^   thai 


100  PYKXSHUKST. 

which  she  called  wine.  Then  she  set  off  again,  but  soon  re- 
turned, saying — 

"  Monsieur,  we  have  not  an  egg  in  the  house." 

"  And  what  then  in  the  name  of  famine,  diet  and  emacia- 
tion, have  you  got  ?"  roared  the  angry  traveller. 

"  Sir,"  said  the  maiden  calmly,  "  we  have  excellent  veal." 

Hugh  was  conquered.  There  was  a  dignity  in  her  per- 
severance which  he  could  not  resist. 

"  Bring  it  to  me,"  he  said  with  a  sigh,  "  only  bring  if 
quick."  .  ' 

She  returned  in  a  moment  crying, 

"  Helas !  Monsieur,  that  maudit  hound,  Fritz,  has  de- 
voured it  while  I  was  talking  to  Monsieur." 

"  Mademoiselle,"  said  Hugh,  placing  a  piece  of  money  in 
her  hands,  "  I  have  the  honor  to  bid  you  an  affectionate 
farewell !" 

And  he  got  out  of  Bulle  as  fast  as  he  could,  struck  up  a 
violent  walk  and  never  stopped  till  he  entered  a  little 
hamlet  near  the  Val  Saint.  Here  he  found  wherewithal  to 
satisfy  his  hunger  and  so  set  off  to  the  Holy  Valley,  to  seo 
the  Convent  of  Carthusians,  founded  in  1280  and  suppressed 
in  1778. 

It  was  Girard,  Baron  de  Corbieres,  who  founded  it,  he 
being  in  green  old  age,  and  his  son  Girard,  also  well 
advanced,  having  no  children  to  inherit.  So  all  the  relatives 
consenting,  they  gave  the  lands  of  Hauterive,  la  Roche,  and 
Mont  Choffloz  to  the  good  fathers,  to  have  and  to  hold  in 


ALONG    THK    SAKINE.  161 

perpetuity  ;  and  when,  by  a  few  year's  labor,  the  monks  had 
reclaimed  the  marsh,  and  made  a  soil  upon  the  mountain, 
and  taught  the  wilderness  to  smile,  the  lady  of  Corbieres 
most  unexpectedly  presented  her  lord  with  a  daughter. 

How  to  dower  her  was  a  question  difficult  to  answer,  for 
Girard  had  given  nearly  all  his  lands  to  the  Carthusians. 
So  after  much  thinking  he  begged  his  well  beloved  fathers 
of  Val  Saint,  to  have  pity  upon  him  and  on  his  child,  whom 
God  by  their  prayer  had  bestowed  on  him,  and  to  give  her 
back  some  portion  of  the  heritage  of  her  father. 

And  the  good  monks,  whose  toil  had  made  the  value  of 
the  estates  fifty  fold  what  it  had  been,  returned  to  him  "  and 
to  his  thrice  dear  daughter  Jeanette,  the  third  of  all  the 
lands,  forests,  and  plains,  and  vineyards,  which  the  said 
Girard  had  devoutly  given,  to  the  said  Jeanette  and  her 
heirs  forever." 

After  that,  all  went  well  until  in  1778,  when  the  Convent 
was  secularized,  after  sixty-four  priors  had  ruled  it,  through 
more  than  five  hundred  years. 

Sold  by  the  government,  it  was  purchased  (that  is,  the 
buildings  and  a  little  ground)  by  the  Trappists,  exiled  from 
France. 

So  by  a  path,  that  led  through  pleasant  fields,  Hugh 
wandered  on  towards  the  austere  abode  of  the  consecrated. 

There,  in  the  house  of  labor  and  mortification ;  of  fast  and 
silence,  many  thoughts  crowded  on  his  mind.  Long  clois- 
ters whose  walls  are  crowded  with  sentences  from  Holy 


162  PYNNSHURST. 

Scripture ;  the  dormitory,  where  each  bed  of  planks  had  one 
thin  covering,  and  one  low  pillow  of  straw  ;  the  cemetery, 
where  each  night  the  monks  must  go,  to  kneel  among  the 
aameless  graves,  and  meditate  upon  the  nothingness  of  life  ; 
and  that  one  ever-open  grave,  waiting  for  the  first  that 
should  pass  from  his  cell,  to  its  enclosure  more  cold,  more 
narrow,  and  more  still. 

There  was  the  darkened  refectory,  where  bread  and  milk, 
and  vegetables  form  the  sole  repast,  and  water  the  only 
drink ;  and  in  another  place  the  chapel,  where  psalms  are 
chanted  without  ceasing  to  the  august  tones  of  the  Ritual 
music. 

He  thought  of  their  rule.  Going  to  their  hard  couch  at 
half  past  seven  to  leave  it  again  at  midnight ;  seven  hours 
passed  kneeling  in  the  chapel ;  the  rest  in  meditation  and 
in  manual  labor,  save  the  time  taken  for  one  short  repast  a 
day. 

There,  fifty  poor  orphan  boys  are  clothed  and  nurtured 
and  taught  trades.  There  every  wanderer,  whatever  his 
religion,  is  received  with  hospitality.  Shown  first  into  the 
parlor,  he  waits  a  moment.  Soon  two  fathers  enter  and 
kneel  before  him ;  then  if  he  will,  conduct  him  to  the 
chapel,  where  one  reads  a  chapter  of  the  Holy  Scriptures  to 
him,  and  so  gives  him  over  to  the  father  whose  business  is 
to  entertain  him,  and  who  only  has  permission  to  speak. 

If  they  kneel  to  the  stranger,  it  is  because  they  remember 
this  saying,  "  I  was  a  stranger  and  you  took  me  in,"  and 


ALONG    THE    SAKINE.  163 

this  one  also,  "  Whatsoever  ye  have  done  unto  one  of  the 
least  of  these  My  brethren,  ye  have  done  it  unto  Me." 

Hugh  left  the  monastery  ashamed  of  his  luxury  and  fear 
of  physical  mortification,  and  thinking  of  those  lines : 

"  They  talk  so  well  in  modern  days,  of  lives  of  prayer  and  toil, 
Yet  rob  the  monk  of  those  fair  lands  he  won  from  barren  soil ; 
They  talk  of  brave  hearts  patient  beneath  the  afflicting  rod, 
Yet  mock  those  souls  which  suffer  in  silence  with  their  God." 

Refreshed  by  his  sleep,  and  by  a  good  breakfast,  he  went 
on  his  way.  From  Fribourg,  he  had  followed  the  Sarine, 
a  remarkably  crooked  river,  which,  like  many  other  Swiss 
streams,  rises  nowhere,  empties  nowhere,  and  yet  is  a  river 
very  respectable  and  evident  in  the  middle,  though  it  loses 
itself  at  both  ends. 

Sometimes  these  Swiss  streams  plunge  into  lakes  and 
become  invisible,  like  the  Broye  and  Thielle.  Sometimes 
they  cut  suddenly  round  the  corner  of  a  mountain,  and  are 
never  seen  any  more.  In  the  latter  instance  they  act  like 
frisky  naiads ;  in  the  former  they  degrade  themselves  into 
canals. 

Well,  he  had  left  the  river  to  go  to  Bulle ;  crossed  it 
again  to  get  to  the  Val  Saint,  and  from  there  went  back 
again  near  Bulle,  to  take  a  look  at  the  Tour  de  Treme, 
and  so  go  on  to  Gruyeres,  the  Moleson,  and  the  Pars  Dieu. 

He  records  of  Tour  de  Treme  as  follows : 

"  It  is  a  small  village  where  there  is  nothing  to  be  seen." 


164  I'YNNSHUKST. 

It  is,  however,  on  the  road  to  Gruyeres,  where  he  deter- 
mined to  dine,  and  where  he  was  at  least  sure  of  getting 
good  cheese.  As  he  entered  the  valley,  from  the  middle 
of  which  rises  the  spiral  hill,  topped  by  the  village,  he  heard 
the  sound  of  a  hurdy-gurdy,  and  beheld  two  men,  the  one 
grinding  a  dolorous  dance  on  the  aforesaid  exquisite  instru- 
ment, and  the  other  carrying,  on  a  board,  the  stuffed  skin  of 
a  very  small  alligator. 

At  sight  of  Hugh,  the  music-grinder  turned  faster, 
and  his  comrade,  doffing  his  hat,  approached  the  tra- 
veller. 

"Sir,"  said  he,  "this  is  an  extraordinary  animal,  quite 
unknown  in  la  Suisse ;  it  is  called  the  crocodile.  It  is  found 
only  on  the  shores  of  the  Ohio,  in  Egypt.  It  puts  its  food 
into  its  mouth  with  its  tail,  which  serves  it  for  a  spoon.  It 
imitates  the  cries  of  a  man  in  distress,  and  if  an  ox  or  sheep 
come  to  aid  the  crier,  it  swallows  him  alive ;  it  is  musket- 
proof,  and  sleeps  in  the  winter.  This  specimen  was  taken 
after  a  violent  struggle,  in  which  he  devoured  two  men  and 
a  boy." 

Equally  instructed  and  delighted,  Hugh  requested  the 
orator  to  accept  a  batz  ;  and  the  music  stopped  grinding, 
the  alligator  passed  on,  and  Hugh  entered  the  village  of 
Gruyeres. 


VII. 

THE    EX-PEDAGOGUE. 

As  he  entered  the  inn,  a  large  landlord  and  a  small  man 
in  black  saluted  him. 

"  What  can  you  give  me  for  dinner  ?"  he  asked. 

"  Trout,  and  a  cutlet ;  a  slice  of  roe-venison,  a  tartlet  and 
Gruyere  cheese,"  replied  the  host 

"  You  are  the  very  Prince  of  Aubergistes,"  cried  the 
traveller. 

"  Oh,  Monsieur,  we  know  that  the  Anglais  love  to  be  well 
fed.  When  will  Monsieur  dine  ?" 

"  In  two  hours,  until  when,  I  should  like  to  see  the  lions. 
Who  can  I  get  to  conduct  me  ?" 

"You  have  happened  just  in  the  nick  of  time,"  said  mine 
host,  and  added,  pointing  to  the  little  man,  "  there  is  the 
wisest  man  in  the  village,  only  he  loves  a  little  too  much 
wine.  It  was  that  which  lost  him  the  school  here." 


1 66  PYNNSntTRST. 

w  Ah,  he  was  a  schoolmaster  here  ?" 

"  Exactly,  and  it  is  he  that  knows  all  about  the  old  counts, 
and  Chalama  the  fool.  Will  Monsieur  try  him  ?" 

"  Yes,  yes,"  said  Hugh,  "present  him,"  and  the  presenta- 
tion over,  he  addressed  the  funny,  crooked  little  specimen. 
"  Monsieur,  if  you  are  idle,  I  would  be  delighted  if  a  man  of 
your  learning  and  urbanity  could  accompany  rne  to  the 
Chateau,  and  if  afterwards  you  would  favor  me  with  your 
company  for  dinner." 

The  little  man  raised  his  eyes,  which  squinted,  yet  danced 
for  joy ;  while  his  long  large  red  nose  wriggled  about  like  a 
crazy  sausage.  It  was  a  most  unaccountable  nose ;  so  large, 
so  plump,  so  rosy,  and  endued  with  such  a  power  of  motion, 
that  it  seemed  to  wander  at  will  all  over  his  face,  and  to  be 
fixed  to  no  particular  spot. 

"  Monsieur,"  he  said,  and  his  proboscis  lifted  itself  up  to 
his  eyebrows,  and  then  descended  with  a  zig-zag  motion  to 
the  side  of  his  mouth,  "  Monsieur,  you  do  me  very  great 
honor.  Steck,  my  friend,  treat  Monsieur  well,  and  give  him 
some  Neuchatel  quarante-six.  Monsieur  likes  quarante- 
six  /" 

"  Certainly,  certainly,"  said  Hugh,  "  anything  you  will." 

"  Let  us  go  up  then,"  said  the  little  man,  "  to  the 
Chateau.  I  used  to  be  schoolmaster  here,  sir  ?" 

"  Ah,"  said  Hugh,  "  and  why,  pray,  did  you  leave  the 
place  ?" 

"  Whv  you  see,  sir,  that  my  boys  were  the  best  educated 


THE    EX-PEDAGOGUE.  107 

in  the  Canton  of  Fribourg ;  Pere  Girard's  system  not  ex- 
cepted ;  and  because  my  school  grew  famous,  the  others  got 
envious,  and  plotted  to  have  me  banished ;  and  the  com- 
mittee here  were  the  worst  of  all ;  they  were  intemperate, 
Monsieur,"  and  his  nose  grew  crimson  and  seemed  to  turn 
ilself  inside  out  with  contempt. 

"  And  the  result  ?"  said  Hugh. 

"  Oh,  Monsieur,  to  argue  with  that  kind  of  people  is  not 
worth  the  quatresfers  d1  un  chien  ;  so  I  left  them  to  do  as 
much  better  as  they  could ;  and  they  have  taken  a  Jean 
vaurien,  in  my  place." 

"Republics,  you  know,  are  always  ungrateful,"  said 
Hugh. 

"  Ah,  yes,  Monsieur,  odi  profanum  vulgus  et  arceo  ;  there 
were  no  such  doings  in  the  time  of  our  good  old  Seigneurs. 
They  would  soon  have  come  down  to  settle  the  committee, 
with  a  half  dozen  of  their  fine  men  at  arms  behind  them. 
You  know,  Monsieur,  that  we  Gruyerois  are  the  handsomest 
people  in  Europe." 

Hugh  smiled  assent,  and  the  little  man  talked  on. 

"  There,  Monsieur,  is  the  Moleson,  the  pride  of  Fribourg 
the  king  of  our  mountains.  It  means  moles  summa,  that 
name ;  it  was  the  monks  who  called  it  so,  and  there  you  see 
the  great  S.  Bernard ;  and  further  on  there,  high  shouldered 
Diablerets,  where  the  Devil  was  chased  by  Saint  Klaus  ;  and 
here  is  the  Chateau  at  last." 

A  low  portal  let  tliHn  in,  through  walls  of  an  astounding 


108  PYNNSHURST. 

thickness,  to  a  court-yard  upon  which  the  Chateau  doors 
opened.  Entering,  they  went  through  the  ancient  building ; 
into  the  little  chapel,  and  then  into  the  room  of  torture,  but 
nothing  much  is  preserved  except  the  walls  and  an  old  stone 
handmill. 

"  They  were  good  lords,  these  Seigneurs  of  Gruye"res,  the 
people  say,"  observed  Pynnshurst. 

"  Yes,  Monsieur,"  replied  the  little  man,  "  they  were 
models.  All  that  a  Seigneur  should  be,  our  stout  old  Counts 
were ;  free  hand  and  strong  hand ;  brave  and  true  heart, 
generous  masters,  faithful  allies,  sages  in  council,  and  lions 
in  the  field,  I  wish  we  had  them  back  again." 

"  Where  did  they  come  from  ?"  Hugh  asked. 

"  I  do  not  know,  Monsieur ;  but  long  ago,  in  the  year 
seven  or  eight  hundred,  I  believe,  a  fiery  Hun,  weary  of 
carnage,  established  himself  here ;  killed  upon  this  mountain 
a  Grue,  (stork)  and  determined  to  build  a  castle  here,  and  to 
call  it  after  the  bird,  which  he  took  also  for  his  arms  ; 
and  so  he  got  possession  of  all  the  country,  which,  you  know, 
is  celebrated  for  its  cheese." 

"  They  were  a  quarrelsome  set  of  Counts  these,  were  they 
not?" 

"  Yes,  ma  Jle  f  they  loved  a  fray  better  than  a  feast ; 
though  they  were  no  bad  hands  at  that  either.  The  Duke 
of  Savoy,  the  Vallaisians,  and  Berne,  and  Fribourg,  kept 
them  pretty  busy.  But  here  they  had  poets,  players,  and 
buffoons  like  Girard  Chalama ;  they  gave  brave  feasts  and 


THE    EX-PEDAGOGUE.  1G9 

held  academies  for  all  the  troubadours  and  minesingers. 
And  besides  all  that,  they  gave  sites  to  the  monks  and  built 
convents  and  churches,  and  endowed  them  well.  For  they 
were  as  good  as  they  were  peppery,  our  old  Counts  of  Gruy- 
eres." 

"  So  much  the  better  for  them,"  said  Hugh,  "  they  must 
have  been  very  rich  to  hold  so  gay  a  court." 

"  Parbleu  /"  said  the  little  man  lifting  his  nose,  "  they 
possessed  from  here  all  along  the  Sarine  there  up  to  the 
glaciers  of  Sanets,  and  their  cadets  one  after  another,  built 
all  around  us  here  the  towel's  of  Trcmes,  of  Corbieres,  of 
Mount  Salvens ;  the  Chateau  d'OEx,  Vanel,  d'Aigremont 
and  Bellegarde." 

"  And  their  people  loved  them,  you  tell  me." 

"  Saperlotte  !  I  should  think  so  !  When  the  Counts 
Hugh,  and  Turnius  gave  all  their  goods  to  the  cloister  of 
Rougernont,  and  determined  to  start  for  the  Crusades  in  the 
Holy  Land ;  and  when  they  gathered  an  hundred  brave 
fellows  to  follow  the  Grue  to  the  Holy  Sepulchre ;  the 
young  mountaineers  collected  round  the  castle,  shut  up  its 
gates,  tore  down  the  drawbridge,  and  swore  that  their  lords 
should  not  leave  them." 

"  And  did  they  go  2"  asked  Pynnshurst. 

"  Parbleu  !  they  had  a  fashion  of  doing  what  they  liked 
those  Counts  of  Gruyeres  ;  and  the  people  could  only  weep 
When  they  heard  the  banneret  ciy  '  March  Gruyeres  ;  we 
must  go  forward  now;  let  him  come  back  who  can.'  But 


170  PYNXSHUHST. 

it  was  not  always  fighting  with  our  Counts.  They  had  a 
ball  once  that  commenced  here  in  the  courtyard  with  seven 
persons,  one  fine  Sunday  night,  and  finished  off  there  at 
Gessenay  on  Tuesday  morning  with  seven  hundred  dancers, 
Lord  Eodolph  the  lightest  of  them  all." 

"  Something  of  a  dance  that,  my  friend,"  said  the  tra- 
veller, "  but  whence  comes  the  title  of  Corbieres  ?  'tis  a  droll 
name  that,  rather." 

"  It  had  a  droll  origin,  it  comes  from  a  corbeau  (crow) 
which  took  a  fancy  to  the  cadet  of  Gruyeres,  who  built  the 
Chateau  yonder;  and  which  dropped  from  its  mouth  a 
silver  ring  whenever  a  boy  was  born,  and  a  golden  one  for 
the  girls." 

"  That  species  of  crow  is  now,  I  presume,  totally  extinct 
is  it  not  ?" 

"  Unluckily,  yes,  Monsieur,  it  was  a  bird  of  the  good  old 
times.  I  wish  I  had  one  in  my  family.  But  I  have  more 
babies  than  gold  rings." 

"  You  know  the  name  of  Chalama ;  he  was  the  Count's 
buffoon,  my  guide-book  says." 

"  Aye,"  said  the  schoolmaster,  "  buffoon,  and  troubadour, 
and  gallant  man-at-arms,  and  propbet,  all  together.  He 
was  the  History  of  Gruyeres.  Nothing  had  ever  happened 
here  that  he  did  not  know ;  and  he  used  to  sing  the  brave 
deeds  of  their  ancestors  to  the  Counts  while  they  were 
dining.  'Tvvas  he  that  held  the  Court  of  Trifles,  where  the 
Count  was  not  admitted  till  he  had  taken  off  his  spurs." 


THE    EX-PEDAGOCH"K.  l7l 

"  Why  was  that  law  passed  ?"  asked  Hugh. 

"  Because,  one  day  the  Count  tore  Chalama's  legs  with 
his  spurs,  for  answering,  when  he  asked  him  his  opinion  of 
his  marriage  with  Catharine  de  la  Tour,  '  that  if  her  heart 
turned  upward  as  much  as  her  nose,  she  would  be  better  in 
a  convent  than  in  the  Chateau  of  Gruyeres.'  Poor  Cha- 
lama,  his  prophecy  came  true.-" 

"  His  prophecy  ?" 

"  Yes,  that  the  day  would  come  when  the  '  Bear  would 
boil  the  Grue  in  the  cauldron.' " 

"  And  what  may  that  mean,  my  friend  ?" 

"  Why  you  know,  Monsieur,  that  the  bear  is  the  arms  of 
Berne ;  and  the  people  call  the  black  and  white  shield  of 
Fribourg,  the  caldron ;  and  so  in  1600  or  thereabouts  the 
last  Count  Michael  incurred  so  many  debts,  that  he  was 
obliged  to  sell  his  estates  and  go  off  to  die  in  a  foreign  coun- 
try. And  then  Berne  and  Fribourg  shared  the  lands  of 
fair  Gruyeres  between  them  ;  and  now  we  have  a  Fribourg 
bailiff  instead  of  our  own  good  old  Counts." 

"  Peace  to  their  ashes,"  said  Hugh. 

"  Amen,"  said  the  small  man,  "  but  it  is  what  they  cared 
least  about  here.  Monsieur  has  seen  all  the  Chateau." 

"  In  that  case,  my  friend,  let  us  go  to  dinner." 

"  With  all  my  heart.  Take  care  of  that  cistern,  Mon- 
sieur ;  it  is  into  that  that  the  thief  fell,  one  night,  and 
saved  himself  from  drowning  by  catching  his  trousers  on  a 
Rpike." 


172  PYNNSIIUBST. 

"  We  have  a  proverb,  my  friend,"  said  Hugh,  "  which 
runs  on  thus  wise,  '  He  that  is  born  to  be  hanged  will  never 
be  drowned?  " 

"Mafic!  Monsieur,  we  have  the  same  proverb;  but 
it  is  not  always  true ;  as  was  proved  in  the  case  of  Fritz 
Goujat." 

"  Pray,  what  was  his  case  ?" 

"  I  will  tell  Monsieur  at  dinner.  At  present,  I  am  so 
uncomfortably  thirsty,  that  I  could  not  do  it  justice." 

"  Very  well,  we  will  put  it  off  till  then  ;  descendons? 

So  down  they  went  to  the  auberge,  and  the  host  was  as 
good  as  his  word.  The  soup,  it  is  true,  was  a  jelly  ;  but 
then  all  Swiss  soups  are  so  ;  but  the  trout,  and  the  cutlets, 
and  the  slice  of  chevreuil,  and  the  quarante  six  blanc  were 
not  to  be  sneezed  at. 

And  the  ex-schoolmaster  drank  and  ate,  and  talked,  and 
performed  such  amazing  gymnastic  feats  with  his  nose,  that 
Hugh  was  equally  instructed  and  delighted.  When  the 
little  man  had  put  at  least  two  bottles  under  his  waistcoat, 
Hugh  reminded  him  of  his  promise  to  tell  the  story  of 
Fritz  Goujat. 

So  the  small  man  took  his  nose  away  from  the  middle 
of  his  face,  tucked  it  comfortably  away  under  his  left  ear, 
emptied  his  tumbler,  and  began. 


vm. 

HE   WHO  is   BORN  TO   BE   HANGED,  ETC. 

"  FRITZ  GOUJAT,  Monsieur,  was  a  native  of  Ueberthal, 
near  the  Lac  Domaine,  which  Monsieur  will  probably  visit 
before  he  leaves  this  part  of  the  country.  His  father  was  a 
cobbler,  his  mother  a  cobbleress,  and  from  both  Fritz 
learned  that  worst  of  vices,  intemperance.  My  service  to 
you,  Monsieur. 

"  Fritz  grew  up  a  tall,  handsome  gargon,  but  wild  as  an 
unbroken  colt.  He  made  himself  a  fisherman  upon  the 
lake,  and  used  to  spend  half  his  time  upon  the  water. 
Well,  Monsieur,  in  Ueberthal,  the  nests  were  robbed  of  eggs 
and  the  orchards  of  fruits,  and  though  nobody  could  find  him 
out,  yet  everybody  was  sure  that  it  was  Fritz  Goujat  who 
was  the  criminal ;  and  everybody  in  the  village  prophesied 
that  Fritz  would  be  hanged. 


174 


PTNNBHURST. 


But  down  in  Thai,  which  was  on  the  lake,  all  that  they 
saw  of  Fritz  was  in  his  boat ;  in  all  kinds  of  storms  and 
tempests,  standing  up,  or  running  along  the  thwarts,  or 
carrying  sail  enough  for  a  seventy-four,  and  everybody  there 
said  that  Fritz  would  certainly  be  drowned. 

"  '  He  does  all  the  mischief  of  our  village,'  said  an  Ueber- 
thalite  to  a  Thalite,  '  he  steals,  and  puts  wild  notions  into 
the  young  folks'  heads,  and  cuts  up  every  possible  descrip- 
tion of  caper,  besides  drinking  enormously.  He  will  certainly 
come  to  be  hanged.' 

" '  No  danger  of  that,'  said  the  Thalite.  '  He  was  on  Lake 
Domaine  all  last  week,  when  the  waves  were  as  high  as  my 
house,  and  his  boat  is  nothing  but  an  egg-shell.  Beyond  all 
doubt  he  will  be  drowned.' 

" '  They  that  are  born  to  be  hanged  will  never  be  drowned,' 
said  the  Ueberthalite. 

"  '  And  they  that  are  born  to  be  drowned  will  never  be 
hanged,'  retorted  the  Thalite. 

" '  Fritz  will  be  hanged,'  said  the  former,  a  little 
nettled. 

" '  Fritz  will  be  drowned,'  was  the  sturdy  reply. 

"  '  Hanged  !'  said  the  first. 

" '  Drowned  !'  said  the  second. 

"  '  Anybody,  but  a  fool,  could  see  with  half  an  eye  that  he 
is  going  towards  the  gallows  as  fast  as  he  can,'  roared  the 
Ueberthalite,  with  a  crimson  face. 


THE    MAN    WHO    IS    BOKN    TO    BE    HANGED,    ETC.       1*75 

"  'Any  thing  but  an  ass,  would  know  that  his  grave  must 
be  a  watery  one,'  said  the  other  as  hotly. 

" '  Do  you  call  me  an  ass  ?'  said  the  former. 

" '  Do  you  think  me  a  fool  ?'  said  the  second. 

"  '  Parbleu  !'  said  the  Ueberthalite, '  put  that  in  your  pipe 
and  smoke  it,'  and  he  gave  him  a  blow  on  the  chest. 

" '  Thank  you  for  the  present.  It  is  thus  that  I  knock  the 
ashes  out,'  and  the  reply  lighted  on  the  left  eye. 

"  So  at  it  they  went,  swearing,  fighting,  rolling  on  the 
ground  ;  when  suddenly  a  third  came  up  and  separated  them, 
saying — 

" '  It  is  not  a  question  of  battle  at  present.  The  matter  is 
to  give  the  body  Christian  burial.' 

" '  What  body  ?'  cried  the  combatants. 

"  '  Fritz  Goujat's  !'  was  the  answer. 

" '  Is  he  dead  then  ?'  they  asked. 

" '  As  a  door  nail,'  was  the  answer.  '  He  was  found  six 
feet  below  his  boat  in  the  lake.' 

" '  There,  drowned  !  I  told  you  so,'  said  the  Thalite,  tri- 
umphantly. 

" '  With  the  slip-noose  pulled  tight  round  his  throat,  his 
eyes  starting  out,  and  the  end  of  the  noose  fastened  to  the 
boat,'  continued  the  informant. 

" '  You  see,  idiot,'  said  the  Ueberthalite,  '  that  he  was 
hanged.' 

" '  People  who  die  six  feet  under  water,  are  not  hanged  ! 
bete!' 


1*76  PYNNS11UKST. 

" '  And  people  who  die  strangled  by  a  rope  round  the 
throat  are  not  drowned,  animal !' 

" '  We  have  a  proverb  in  my  village,  that  ninety-nine 
donkeys  and  one  Ueberthalite  make  an  hundred  asses.' 

"  '  And  we  have  one  in  ours  which  says,  "  If  you  wish  to 
see  a  hog,  you  must  go  to  the  Thai." ' 

" '  Take  that,'  )  said  the  combatants,  and  renewed  their 

"  '  Take  that,'  i  fisticuffs. 

"But,  Monsieur,  the  quarrel  has  continued  ever  since 
between  the  two  villages ;  and  to  this  day  I  don't  know 
whether  Fritz  was  drowned  or  hanged.  Such  is  the  story, 
Monsieur  ;  your  very  good  health." 

And  now  the  little  man  began  to  talk  thickly ;  so  Hugh 
gave  him  a  dollar  and  left  him  ;  and  went  to  take  a  nap  in 
his  room,  determining,  as  the  weather  was  warm,  to  con- 
tinue his  tour  after  nightfall. 

And  when  he  started,  he  passed  by  the  landlord's  advice 
through  a  grass-field  newly  mown,  and  on  the  first  bunch 
of  hay,  he  saw  the  little  schoolmaster  very  asleep  indeed. 
His  hands  were  clasped  upon  his  bosom,  and  there  he  lay 
snoring  upon  his  back,  his  loose  nose  wriggling  at  the  stars. 


IX. 

GOD'S    SHARK. 

MR.  PVNNSHURST  slept  that  night  in  the  little  auberge 
which  has  placed  itself  amid  the  straggling  houses  of  the 
Pars  Dieu.  In  184 7,  he  would  have  slept  beneath  the 
same  roof  with  the  Carthusian  Fathers,  in  a  cell  adorned 
and  softened  for  the  voyager.  But  the  fathers  were  gone. 
The  wisdom  of  the  government  had  chased  them  from  the 
canton.  Whether  that  wisdom  were  wise  or  not,  many  men 
doubt  to  this  moment.  One  thing  is  certain,  that  in  the 
neighborhood  there  are  an  hundred  beggars  where  once 
there  was  not  even  one. 

He  is  at  the  foot  of  the  Moleson.  Often  at  Neuchatel 
he  had  regarded  that  stately  Alp,  lifting  his  kingly  form, 
crowned  with  eternal  snow,  and  robed  at  present  in  the 
green  of  spring  ;  and  now  he  was  beside  it. 


178  I  YNXSHURST. 

He  loved  the  mountains;  the  trace  of  God's  fingers 
rested  on  them  ;  man  had  not  changed  their  features. 
Up  rose  their  glorious  masses,  stalwart  and  proud ;  fronting 
the  bright  heaven  boldly,  for  they  had  not  sinned.  And  at 
their  feet  lay  the  sweet  valleys,  cradles  of  the  spring.  And 
when  Hugh  looked  upon  them  a  droll  fancy  came  into  his 
head.  It  was  this  :  That  the  smile  of  the  man  is  in  his  eyes 
and  lips,  but  the  smile  of  the  mountain  is  at  its  foot. 

Refreshed  by  a  good  sleep,  he  rose  in  the  morning  and 
walked  towards  the  deserted  convent.  Sadly  it  lay  there 
before  him,  stretching  out  its  long  building  with  cross- 
tipped  roofs,  religious  in  its  desolation  ;  and  while  he  looked 
he  sighed,  that  the  evil  should  take  back  what  the  good  had 
given  to  God. 

At  the  distance  of  some  leagues  from  Fribourg,  in  the 
ancient  county  of  Gruyere,  lived,  in  the  good  old  time,  the 
excellent  Count  Peter  III.;  and  when  his  race  was  run, 
he  departed  this  life  in  a  good  Christian  manner,  leaving 
his  memory  and  his  property  to  his  widow  Wilhelmette. 

The  lady  Wilhelmette  had,  in  her  province,  a  certain 
mountain,  fruitful  in  snows  and  torrents,  very  grand  to  look 
at  but  very  unproductive.  To  this  she  joined  some  acres  of 
good  pasture  land  and  gave  it  all  to  the  Carthusians,  asking 
them  to  pray  for  her,  for  her  young  son,  and  for  good  Count 
Peter  the  departed.  To  it  she  gave  the  name  of  Theil- 
Gottes,  or  Pars-Dieu ;  the  share  of  God ;  and  got 
Bochard,  monk  of  Val  Saint,  appointed  the  first  Prior. 


GOD'S  SHAKE.  179 

The  monks  went  stoutly  to  work ;  they  cleared  the 
forest,  they  terraced  parts  of  the  mountain  side,  they  brought 
soil  thither  with  much  labor,  and  sowed  abundantly,  and 
planted.  And  soon  the  voice  of  prayer  made  sweet  the 
solitudes ;  and  alms  were  ready  for  the  wandering  poor, 
and  the  cross  upon  the  tower,  and  the  mellow  bell  told  the 
poor  mountaineer  that  God  was  beside  him. 

Little  by  little  the  people  gathered  round,  and  built  their 
humble  houses  there,  and  the  wilderness  smiled,  and  there 
was  another  home  of  torrents  won  from  rough  Nature  for 
a  house  of  prayer. 

This  was  in  A.  D.,  1308.  In  the  year  1800,  the  ancient 
convent  was  biirned  down ;  but  the  monks  contrived  to 
build  it  up  again,  without  diminishing  their  alms. 

And  so  it  stood  until  that  melancholy  revolution,  lifting 
up  radicalism,  drove  the  good  fathers  from  their  home,  and 
left  the  empty  halls  of  "  God's  Share"  to  tell  to  the  wan- 
dering stranger,  the  story  of  their  benevolence. 

There,  within  three  years,  was  a  wondrous  clock,  which 
marked  the  seconds,  minutes,  quarters,  halves,  and  hours  > 
the  days,  the  weeks,  the  months,  the  feasts  of  the  whole 
year,  the  courses  of  the  planets,  the  phases  of  the  moon, 
and  half  a  dozen  other  things.  There,  too,  was  an  organ, 
played  by  a  mechanical  hand,  which  could  accompany  seve- 
ral simple  chants. 

These  were  the  work  of  good  old  Father  Bertram,  who 


180  PYNNSHURST. 

is  with  God  now,  and  of  whom  one  pleasant  legend  is  as 
follows  : 

Long  ago  the  old  monk  had  vanquished  nearly  all  his 
enemies  ;  but  one  held  out  still  unsubdued  and  apparently 
unconquerable.  It  attacked  him  with  unsparing  severity^ 
knocked  him  down,  and  kept  him  often  confined  to  his  bed 
when  he  ought  to  have  been  chanting  the  offices  in  the  choir 
with  his  brethren.  He  called  this  enemy  sleep. 

Every  means  was  tried  in  vain  to  get  the  better  of  it ;  he 
fasted  hard,  and  worked  more  than  his  share,  and  added 
to  his  devotions,  but  he  only  slept  the  sounder ;  and  in  the 
matin  office  they  missed  his  counter-bass,  and  the  father 
Prior  scolded,  but  not  hard,  for  brother  Bertrand  was  getting 
old,  and  had  labored  very  faithfully. 

But  the  old  man's  conscience  was  harder  to  deal  with  than 
the  father  Prior,  and  it  abused  him  terribly. 

Now,  he  was  as  good  a  mechanician  as  he  was  a  sleeper, 
and  he  resolved  to  make  himself  a  clock  that  should  awake 
him  for  the  office.  So  he  made  one,  which,  at  the  proper 
hour,  rung  a  loud  bell,  and  beat  upon  a  kettle-drum  and 
made  a  cock  crow  shrilly ;  and  the  next  morning  he  was  the 
first  in  the  chapel.  But  he  soon  got  used  to  the  noise,  and 
in  a  week  slept  soundly  through  it  all. 

Next  he  added  a  serpent  who  hissed  horribly  in  his  ear, 
"it  is  time  to  get  up."  But  dealing  with  serpents  brings  to 
man  uncomfortable  knowledge,  and  this  one  taught  the  poor 


GOD'S  SHARE.  181 

frere  Bertrand,  that  it  was  not  sleep  which  kept  him  in  his 
bed,  but  simple,  unadulterated  laziness. 

So  he  added  to  the  drum,  and  bell,  and  cock,  and  snake, 
a  heavy  oaken  plank,  which  fell,  when  the  clock  ceased 
striking,  and  massacred  his  toes.  This  did  very  well  for 
three  mornings,  but  on  the  fourth,  the  devil  whispered  him 
to  curl  his  legs  up  under  him.  He  did  so  and  slept  like  a 
top. 

But  all  that  day  his  conscience  was  a  fearful  companion, 
and  so  teased  him,  that  he  set  his  wits  to  work,  to  discover 
an  expedient  to  satisfy  it. 

His  clock  was  no  gilded  Geneva  gimcrack,  fit  for  the 
mantel-piece  of  a  lady's  boudoir  ;  but  a  ponderous  piece  of 
workmanship,  huge  as  the  side  of  his  cell,  and  strong  as  a 
steam-engine. 

So  he  placed  a  sort  of  mighty  spring  among  the  works, 
and  fastened  a  stout  cord  to  the  end  of  it,  and  the  other  end 
of  the  cord  to  his  body,  and  when  the  clock  struck  the 
matin  hour,  the  bell  rung,  and  the  drum  beat,  and  the  cock 
crew,  and  the  snake  hissed,  and  the  spring  went  off  with  a 
mighty  crack  and  jerked  poor  brother  Bertrand  into  the 
middle  of  the  floor.  This  was  convincing.  The  enemy 
gave  up.  But  alas  !  no  sooner  had  the  good  friar  happily 
succeeded,  than  he  died. 

"  I  shall  wake  to-morrow,"  he  said,  smiling  as  he  died, 
"  in  a  place  where  I  shall  sleep  no  more." 

Pynnshurst  spent  most  of  the  day  in  wandering  about  the 


182  PYKXSHUKST. 

silent  and  desert  convent,  listening  to  the  sad  echoes  of  his 
own  footsteps  in  the  cold  and  silent  halls,  and  slept  at  night 
in  the  same  little  auberge,  to  mount  the  Moleson  to- 
morrow. 

For  Pars  Dei  lies  at  the  foot  of  the  Moleson,  on  the  fore- 
head of  which  mountain,  rises  a  cross  more  than  six  thousand 
feet  above  the  level  of  the  sea,  proclaiming  that  the  mountain 
is  God's.  • 


X. 

MOLES  ON. 

HUGH  has  his  Alpenstock  (stock  meaning  stick  in  Ger- 
man) in  his  right  hand,  as  he  climbs,  not  with  any  great 
rapidity,  the  ascent  of  Moleson. 

At  first  the  trees  are  respectable,  and  the  clusters  of 
houses  may  be  called  villages.  An  occasional  lizard  may 
be  seen  amid  the  rocks,  and  the  sparrow  whistles  here; 
but  higher  up,  there  the  growth  is  stunted,  the  pasture 
lands  have  more  flowers  than  grass  ;  goats  get  along  much 
more  successfully  than  cattle ;  houses  become  rarer,  though 
there  are  some  even  on  the  peaks ;  chalets  make  themselves 
visible  ;  little  white  and  brown  butterflies  take  the  place  of 
birds ;  the  violet  becomes  immense,  the  alpine  rose  clings  in 
the  crevices  ;  and  so  matte rs  alter,  till  he  stands  puffing  and 
wiping  his  forehead  at  the  foot  of  the  cross. 


184  PYNNSHUKST. 

To  the  west,  he  looks  over  the  Gruyere  pasture  lands, 
o'er  Moral's  lake  and  the  low  hills  that  bound  it,  where  the 
blue  waters  of  Neuchatel  are  framed  in  the  Jura. 

Northward  runs  the  Sarine,  only  a  silver  thread  to  him, 
with  the  Weissenstein  topping  the  distance.  Southward, 
the  Savoy  Alps,  under  the  dominion  of  the  kingly  Mount 
Blanc.  Westward,  the  Bernese  Oberland,  where  hills  on 
hills  arise,  and  the  white  foaming  cataracts  fall  forever,  and 
the  avalanche  roars  down  from  the  crest  of  Yungfrau,  and 
the  pure,  bright  Silberhorn  woos  the  caress  of  the  sun- 
beam. 

When  he  had  seen  all  this  he  turned  to  come  down 
again.  But  Ihe  land  had  disappeared.  Some  hundred 
feet  below  him  rolled,  billowing,  the  inky  clouds — wild 
children  of  the  Alps.  He  heard  the  rush  of  falling  rain, 
drenching  the  valleys  beneath.  Then  the  dull  mass  heaved 
strongly,  and  out  from  its  dusky  heart  leaped  the  keen 
lightning,  and  the  thunder's  roar  rolled  backward  to 
the  Alps,  and  they  returned  it  to  the  Jura  yonder,  and 
"  every  mountain  now  had  found  a  tongue,"  and  sullen  and 
deep  were  the  echoes  that  awoke  amid  the  caverns  of  those 
hills.  Thus  stood  he  in  the  sunshine,  gazing  down  upon 
the  storm. 

But  the  tempest  has  gone  by,  and  he  must  descend  and 
march  stoutly  onward  to  Lac  Domaine.  But  half  way 
down  he  entered  a  cottage  to  beg  a  drop  of  kirsch,  the 
Alpine  whiskey. 


MOLESOX.  185 

"  Guten  tag,  Madame  ;  can  you  give  me  a  mouthful  of 
kirsch,  for  I  have  climbed  your  mountain  here  till  I  am  very 
weary  ?" 

"  Ja  ja,  Jlerr,  you  shall  have  some  that  my  goodman 
makes  with  his  own  hands,  and  you'll  find  none  like  it  in 
your  grand  hotels  down  below  there ;  and  if  you  will  eat  a 
morsel  of  goats'  cream  cheese  and  a  cut  of  our  brown  bread, 
you  will  be  heartily  welcome." 

"  My  good  dame,"  said  Hugh,  "  your  hospitality  pays  me 
for  mounting.  I  will  accept  your  invitation  with  all  my 
heart.  Hospitality  is  chased  from  the  plains  to  the  refuge 
of  the  chamois  and  the  ibex." 

"  I  think  I  know  what  the  Herr  means  ;  that  the  kindly 
offer  of  a  morsel  and  a  drink  is  only  found  now  among  the 
mountain  folk." 

"  Yes,  that  is  what  I  mean." 

"  Ah,  and  it  is  only  too  true ;  I  know  when  I  go  with 
the  goodman  down  there  to  the  market.  We  Swiss  are 
neither  so  good  nor  so  simple  as  we  used  to  be.  It  ions  oth- 
erwise when  good  Queen  Bertha  span? 

"  I  have  heard  that  proverb  many  a  time ;  pray,  what  is 
its  meaning  ?" 

"  Well,  you  must  know  that  when  the  good  queen  took 
refuge  here,  she  built  churches  and  hospitals  for  the  poor 
and  sick,  and  gave  all  her  revenue  in  alms ;  and  they 
were  the  happiest  days  ever  known,  says  the  history.  And 
one  day  out  walking,  she  saw  a  young  peasant  girl  guard- 


186  PYNKSHURST. 

ing  her  sheep,  and  working  diligently  the  while  at  her 
spinning-wheel.  So  she  was  pleased  with  the  little  one's 
industry,  and  gave  her  a  handsome  present  and  enough  to 
dower  her  to  boot. 

"  And  the  next  day,  every  lady  came  to  court  with  a  spin- 
ning-wheel. But  the  good  queen  laughed  and  said,  '  The 
young  peasant  came  the  first,  and  like  Jacob  she  has  won 
the  blessing.' 

"  But  the  ladies  were  ashamed  to  leave  off  their  work,  and 
the  queen  was  the  busiest  of  all,  and  the  fashion  of  the 
court  passed  to  the  cottage,  every  body  was  industrious,  and 
every  body  was  happy,  and  so  we  say  here,.  Those  were 
the  best  days  in  which  queen  Bertha  span." 

"Thank  you  for  your  story;  and  now  I  must  say  'good 
bye'  and  leave  you." 

"  God's  blessing  and  St.  Mary's  go  with  you,"  she 
replied. 

He  could  not  offer  to  pay  her ;  so  he  took  a  little  gold 
medal  of  Ensiedeln  from  his  breast  and  hung  it  round  the 
neck  of  her  child,  and  nodded  farewell  and  so  parted. 

There  is  no  pleasanter  peasantry  than  that  of  Fribourg. 
^Vell  looking,  and  when  possessed  of  enough  to  nurture 
them,  well  and  cleanly  dressed;  in  scarlet  handkerchiefs 
and  white  bosomed  and  striped  bodices,  with  purple  or 
brown  skirt.  They  always  salute  the  stranger ;  for  polite- 
ness is  part  of  their  religion. 

In  every  other  part  of  Switzerland  when  you  give  a  coin 


MOLKSON.  187 

to  a  beggar,  old  or  young,  lie  does  not  regard  you,  nor 
thank  you,  but  falls  at  once  to  the  examination  of  the  piece ; 
grunts  and  goes  off.  But  the  Fribourgeois  kisses  his  hand 
before  receiving,  mutters  a  blessing  on  you,  and  pockets  the 
alms  without  looking  at  it.  So  that  if  you  are  that  way 
inclined  you  can  present  him  safely  with  a  button. 

These  peasants  are  exceedingly  respectful,  are  yet  free 
and  frank  as  daylight  with  you.  You  never  see  any  stiff- 
ness of  respect ;  still  less  anything  like  fawning ;  yet  least 
of  all  intrusion  or  impertinence.  If  you  enter  the  cottage 
its  owners  do  their  best  to  promote  your  comfort  while  you 
are  there,  and  if  they  like  you,  send  after  you  in  going,  a 
shower  of  benedictions.  Hugh  liked  to  talk  with  them, 
and  liked  to  hear  them  talk  among  themselves,  even  when 
he  could  not  understand  them,  for  their  patois  there  is 
musical  as  Italian. 

"  You  have  a  stout  burden  there,  my  friend,"  he  said  to  a 
Laitier  (milkman)  who  was  descending  beside  him  with  all 
his  utensils  on  his  back. 

"  Ah,  'tis  nothing  when  one  is  used  to  it,"  he  answered, 
touching  his  cap. 

"  And  do  you  carry  that  up  and  down  the  mountain,  all 
the  year." 

"  Oh  no,  'tis  but  a  little  way  that  we  carry  it,  from  the 
pastures  only  to  those  houses  there  below,  where  the  butter 
and  cheese  are  made.  And  those  we  take  to  the  plain  only 
once  in  the  year.  We  make  famous  cheese  here." 


188  PYNSSHURST. 

"  Yes,  my  friend,"  said  Hugh,  "  I  have  eaten  Gruyere 
cheese,  maybe  you  made  it  yourself,  twelve  hundred  leagues 
from  here." 

"  St.  Martin  !  where  then  ?" 

"  In  America,  you  know  where  that  is  ?" 

"  Oh  yes,"  was  the  reply  with  the  calm  dignity  of  con- 
scious knowledge,  "  that's  in  New  York  ;  I  know,  for  I  have 
a  brother  there,  I  suppose  you  know  him,  Christian  Schatel, 
he  is  a  Laitier." 

In  Switzerland  people  even  in  the  rank  of  respectable 
shopkeepers,  always  expect  that  all  Americans  are  intimate 
acquaintances.  A  tailor  at  Neuchatel  measuring  me  one 
day,  informed  me  that  he  had  just  finished  a  coat  for  Mr 
White. 

"Indeed,"  said  I. 

"  Yes  ;  Monsieur  knows  him  ?" 

Now  it  is  just  the  color  in  which  I  happen  not  to  have 
one  solitary  acquaintance ;  I  know  one  Mrs.  Green ;  two 
Mr.  Browns,  a  family  of  Blacks,  and  the  respectable  oyster 
cooker  of  Broad  street,  Moses  Blue ;  but  not  a  White,  not 
ore.  So  I  told  the  tailor. 

"  No." 

"  Mais,  Monsieur,  he  is  from  America." 

"  My  friend,"  said  I,  "  America  is  thousands  of  miles  long 
and  thousands  broad.  I  have  never  seen  the  quarter  of  it." 

"  But  he  is  from  New  York,"  persisted  the  Schneider, 


MOLESON.  189 

"  pale  man,  wears  spectacles,  great  many  pimples  on  his 
face." 

"  Alas,"  said  I,  "  New  York  has  five  hundred  thousand 
inhabitants :  three  quarters  of  them  are  pale ;  three  eights 
wear  spectacles,  and  pimples,  Lord  bless  you,  are  as  common 
as  huckleberries.  Positively  and  absolutely,  I  do  not  know 
Mr.  White." 

So  was  the  peasant  astonished  when  Hugh  did  not  know 
his  brother,  and  so  did  he  wonder  and  bless  himself  as  Hugh 
enlightened  him  on  the  size  of  the  place. 

"  I  suppose  you  are  happy  here  ?"  Hugh  said. 

"  Oh  yes,  happy  enough.  We  have  our  own  sickness 
and  death,  like  the  plain  folk.  And  sometimes  we  tumble 
off  a  precipice,  besides.  Then  a  snow  slide,  for  we  have  no 
great  avalanches  as  in  the  Oberland  there,  will  crush  a  cabin 
or  kill  some  of  the  cattle,  but  God  is  good,  the  cattle  come 
again,  and  as  for  the  friends  that  go  away,  we  can  pray  for 
them  till  we  follow  them." 

"  How  much  of  the  year,  are  you  out  on  the  pastures  ?" 
Hugh  asked. 

"  Till  the  snow  has  covered  them,  and  then  we  herd  the 
cattle  in  the  chalets,  and  feed  them  with  the  hay  which 
we  make  in  summer." 

"  And  you  have  your  own  amusements,  doubtless  ?" 

"  Oh,  yes,  in  the  summer  nights  the  young  folks  dance  to 
the  pipe,  and  in  the  winter  those  who  have  not  gone  further 


190  TYNXSHURST. 

down,  cluster  in  the  chalets,  and  the  old  folks  tell  wild  Alpen 
stories." 

"  Stories  about  what  ?"  said  Hugh,  on  the  look  out  for  a 
legend. 

"  Ah,  about  many  a  thing,  sometimes  about  the  Sabbat, 
when  the  witches  come  to  adore  the  great  Buck  of  the 
mountain  ;  sometimes  of  the  dwarfs  who  lead  the  cattle 
astray  ;  or  of  the  servant-spirits  who  help  us  in  the  chalets, 
if  we  leave  a  cup  of  milk  for  them  eveiy  night ;  or  of  the 
black  hunter  who  chases  in  the  storms  over  the  Alps 
there." 

"  And  could  not  you  give  me  a  specimen  of  these  stories  ?" 
asked  Hugh. 

"  I !  oh  no  ;  I  am  neither  old  enough  nor  young  enough." 

"  How  so,  pray !" 

"  Why,  I  have  forgotten  the  stories  of  childhood  and  have 
not  yet  learned  those  of  old  age.  At  my  age  we  work,  and 
when  clustered  around  the  fire  at  night,  I  sleep  a  good  deal 
more  than  I  hear,  for  I  am  generally  very  tired.  See  here 
we  are  at  the  chalet ;  I  hope  you  will  try  our  cream,  and 
rest  a  moment ;  there  is  a  guide  at  the  door  too,  I  dare  say 
that  there  is  another  voyager  within." 


XI. 

MR.  Ki  PP  s. 

As  Hugh  passed  under  the  low  portal,  he  saw  the  back 
of  a  young  traveller,  who  was  talking  most  volubly  to  a  stout 
dame,  one  word  of  German  to  twenty  of  English.  The 
German  he  uttered  in  a  Christian  tone,  but  he  screamed  out 
the  English  as  if  he  were  mad.  He  was  evidently  under  the 
impression,  not  peculiar  to  him,  that  to  make  a  foreigner 
understand  you,  it  is  merely  necessary  to  yell  like  a 
Mohawk. 

The  fat  dame  was  trying  not  to  laugh,  as  the  stranger  ad- 
dressed her. 

"  ffabcn  sie  a  brush,  my  good  soul ;  a  brush  you  know ! 
a  brush  !  to  brush  with.  Nichts  Nichts  !  Ich  kabi  tum- 
bled in  the  mud,  and  ruined  my  trousers,  trousers,  hey  ?" 
and  he  looked  with  a  broad  smile  into  the  good  woman's 


192  PYNNSHURST. 

merry  face.  "  Ah,  you  are  laughing  at  me,  sie  sie,  laugh  ! 
laugh  !"  and  he  drew  the  corners  of  his  mouth  back  to  illus- 
trate its  meaning.  "  But  the  brush,  my  good  soul,  haben 
sie  nicht  brush !  for  my  trousers  you  know,  bless  you,  my 
trousers !  brush !" 

Hugh  stepped  forward  laughing  and  said — "  If  you  will 
accept  my  services  as  interpreter,  they  are  heartily  at  your 
disposal." 

The  figure  turned  round,  uttered  a  cry  of  joy,  and  seized 
the  hand  of  our  amazed  wanderer. 

"  Oh  Pynnshurst !"  he  bolted  forth,  "who'd  have  thought 
it  ?  to  meet  you  here  on  the  Moleson ;  in  the  Alps,  and 
scenery,  and  things  of  that  kind.  I  am  uncommonly  glad 
to  see  you ;  just  look  at  my  trousers ;  fell  in  the  mud  half  a 
mile  from  here,  and  was  obliged  to  walk  in  them,  very  un- 
comfortably wet,  to  this  place." 

"  You  ought  to  have  taken  them  off,  and  hung  them  on 
your  staff,"  said  Hugh. 

"  I  thought  of  that,"  said  the  stranger,  "  and  of  putting 
my  legs  through  the  sleeves  of  my  coat ;  but  they  were  not 
long  enough." 

"  Which,  Gus,  the  sleeves  or  the  legs  ?" 

"  The  sleeves,  my  dear  fellow ;  and  then  you  know  too, 
if  I  had  met  any  ladies,  they  would  have  thought  it  very 
strange  to  see  a  man  wearing  his  coat  in  that  way — but  I 
say,  Pynnshurst,  how  d'ye  do  2" 

And  he  shook  the  wanderer  heartily  by  the  hand.     Hugh 


MR.  KIPPS.  193 

had  recognized  in  him  Mr.  Augustus  Frederick  Kipps ;  a 
New  Yorker,  with  a  good  heart  and  an  empty  head. 

"  What  in  the  name  of  all  that  is  petrifying,  brings  you 
to  Switzerland,  Kipps  ?" 

"  Why,  bless  you,  everybody  goes  ;  and  then  you  know 
there  is  the  Alps  and  scenery  and  avalanches  and  things 
How  do  you  like  my  costume  de  voyage  ?" 

"It  is  all  that  is  most  lovely;  it  is  in  fact  Alpestre  /" 

"  No,  do  you  really  think  so  ?  I  got  it  made  in  Paris  as 
I  came  through.  Do  you  like  the  cold  ?" 

"  Infinitely  ;  but  what  news  from  New  York  ?" 

"  Oh,  a  budget  full ;  they  are  trying  to  bring  up  straps 
again  ;  but  I  have  a  letter  for  you  in  iny  sack  down  below 
there.  Where  do  you  come  from  ?" 

"  From  the  top  of  the  mountain  there." 

"  And  where  are  you  going  ?" 

"  To  Berne  and  the  Oberland." 

"  The  Oberland  !  that's  where  the  scenery  is,  is  not  it  ?" 

"  Yes,  that  is  the  spot ;  there  is  the  Yungfrau,  and  Stock 
horn,  and  Niesen,  and  Reigenbach,  and  Giesbach,  and  Staub- 
bach." 

"  Stop !"  cried  Kipps,  "  Staubbach ;  let  me  think,"  and 
he  placed  his  hand  upon  his  forehead  for  a  moment,  and 
then  gravely  resumed,  "  yes,  it  is  Staubbach.  I  have  got 
that  on  a  salad-spoon  which  I  bought  at  Geneva.  There's 
a  great  deal  of  blue  and  white  about  it,  I  know,  and  scenery. 
Well,  my  dear  fellow,  I'll  go  with  you  !" 


194  PYNNSHURST. 

"  But  wont  you  finish  the  ascent  of  the  Moleson  ?"  asked 
Hugh. 

"  No,  no,  confound  the  Moleson,  I'll  go  with  you.  Where 
do  you  sleep  to-night  ?" 

"  At  Lac  Domaine,  a  good  walk  from  here ;  so,  if  you 
wont  mount,  let  us  go  down  and  on  our  way." 

So  with  all  manner  of  adieus  from  the  good-hearted 
peasants,  they  descended  and  marched  on  for  the  Schwart- 
zee. 

"  And  so  you  have  seen  all  the  world  of  New  York,  with- 
in three  months,  hey  ?  Were  you  very  uncommonly  sick 
in  crossing,  my  poor  Augustus  ?" 

"  I  was,  indeed,  Pynnshurst ;  many  a  time  when  I  leaned 
over  the  edge  of  my  berth,  which  cut  me  confoundedly  here 
under  the  chin ;  many  a  time  I  wished  to  be  back  in  my 
own  room,  and  I  thought  if  ever  I  got  there  again,  that  I 
would  let  the  Alps  and  things,  go  to  sea  themselves,  if  they 
wanted  to." 

"  But  how  did  you  really  come  to  start  ?"  Hugh  asked. 

"  Well,  the  fact  is,  I  had  talked  a  good  deal  about  it  you 
know  ;  and  my  aunt  Lucy,  not  the  one  that's  dead  you  know, 
but  another  one ;  squints  a  little  and  wears  pink  caps  ;  well, 
she  was  always  talking  to  me  about  scenery,  and  voyages  to 
enlarge  your  ideas  and  all  that  sort  of  stuff,  as  if  there  was 
any  use  in  that :  my  ideas  are  not  good  for  anything  :  what 
is  the  use  of  enlarging  them  ?" 

"  But  finally  she  persuaded  you  to  try  the  voyage,  hey  ?" 


MR.    KIPPS.  195 

"  No,  she  did  not.  No ;  it  was  one  night  at  Mrs.  Schuy- 
lev's  ;  who  should  come  up  to  me  but  your  cousin  Alice, 
pale  and  thin,  but  so  uncommonly  pretty  that  it  makes  you 
feel  queer,  you  know,  when  you  shook  hands  with  her,  well, 
she  said,  '  I  hear  that  you  are  going  to  Europe,  Mr.  Kipps.' 
'  Yes,'  I  said,  '  I  talked  about  it.'  '  If  you  do  go,'  she 
added,  '  you  will  carry  some  letters  from  me,  and  try  to  find 
Hugh  out,  wont  you  ?'  That's  what  made  me  come,  Pynns- 
hurst ;  when  she  said  '  won't  you,'  in  that  kind  of  a  way  to 
me,  I  would  have  started  to  walk  here  for  her.  The  very 
next  morning  I  ordered  a  pea  jacket  and  a  blue  cap  with  an 
anchor  button  on  it.  Everybody  took  me  for  a  naval  officer 
except  the  sailors." 

"  Good  cousin  Alice,"  said  Hugh,  "  how  does  she  look, 
Gus  ?" 

"Like  an  angel  tired  of  staying  here  on  earth,"  said 
Kipps.  "  She  seldom  smiles,  and  when  she  does,  it  is  so 
sad  that  I  would  rather  see  her  cry.  There  are  letters  from 
her  in  that  sack,  which  I  will  give  you  when  we  get  to  our 
destination." 

And  so  they  marched  forward  stoutly  through  the  Val 
Saint  across  the  Sarine  and  along  the  Yaun  ;  then  a  mono- 
tonous and  ugly  route  to  Pre-de  1'Essert,  cradled  in  the  hills, 
and  once  the  property  of  the  Abbey  of  Hauterive,  so,  in  a 
little  while,  to  the  Schwartzee  (black  lake)  or  Lac  Domaine. 

A  lake  elliptic,  clearly  crystalline,  and  framed  in  richest 
verdure,  and  you  bounce  from  'mid  the  savage  and  most 


196  PYNNSHURST. 

ugly  rocks  and  herbless  paths,  upon  it  suddenly.  Like  to  a 
Cairngorm  in  green  velvet  case,  lies  the  fair  water  elegantly 
packed ;  in  full  circumference  about  a  mile.  All  its  fair 
sloping  banks  are  meadow  lands,  or  fertile  pastures  beau- 
tiful with  herds;  and  the  sweet  tinkling  of  the  cowbell 
comes,  borne  dying  o'er  the  water  to  your  ear. 

Sweet  tinkling  say  I — for  the  bell  is  not  that  miserable 
little  copper  thing  that  scares  the  sparrows  in  a  Yankee 
glade,  but  a  full  rich-toned  and  most  musical  bell ;  weighing 
a  dozen,  maybe  twenty  pounds ;  and  so  loved  by  the  soft 
eyed,  smooth  haired  cow,  that  if  you  take  it  from  her  neck, 
she  dies. 

No  sources  feed  this  lovely  little  lake  ;  no  merry  rivulet 
supplies  its  floods,  but  to  its  breast  the  melted  glacier  steals, 
and  it  sleeps  calm  the  nursling  of  the  snows.  There,  if  you 
wish  to,  you  can  take  a  bath,  in  the  pure  lake  or  in  a  nasty 
spring  of  sulphur  water,  under  the  red  roof  which  you  see 
peeping  there  from  out  the  trees. 

Having  entered  the  inn,  Hugh  Pynnshurst  sent  Kipps 
to  amuse  himself  in  the  bath-room,  while  he  locked  himself 
in  his  room  to  read  his  letters  from  home, 

Letters  from  home !  how  musical  the  cry;/  to  the  boy 
sailor  on  the  far  off  main,  when  from  the  friendly  vessel 
drawing  nigh,  across  the  billow  floats  the  gentle  strain. 
The  words,  the  tear-deeps  of  his  memory  move ;  they  tell 
a  mother's  or  a  sister's  love ;  and  playmate,  friend,  and 


MB.    KIPPS.  197 

sweetheart,  to  him  come,  out  on  the  sea  in  letters  from  his 
home. 

The  frail  sad  mother,  by  her  children's  prayer,  driven  from 
her  native  but  ungenial  air,  to  where  the  breeze  amid  the 
pine  wood  sweeps,  or  orange  blooms  nod  white  o'er  South- 
ern deeps ;  feels  the  warm  life  blood  from  her  cheek  retreat ; 
feels  the  deep  mother  heart  suspend  its  beat ;  half  hoping, 
and  half  fearing,  see  her  come,  stretching  her  thin  hand  for 
those  letters  from  home. 

The  man,  who,  scattering  with  too  open  hand,  finds  him- 
self penniless  in  stranger  land ;  in  the  worst  corner  by  his 
landlord  thrust,  who  trusts  unkindly,  for  he  fears  to  trust. 
How  he  lifts  up  his  shame-o'erburdened  head,  and  puts  new 
pride  and  vigor  in  his  tread ;  while  his  bright  eyes  o'er 
all  things  boldly  roam,  at  thoughts  of  double  letters  from 
his  home. 

But  to  the  wanderer !  Still  the  trembling  chords ;  for 
him  there  is  no  music  in  those  words.  Home  is  where  love 
and  gentle  trust  abide ;  'tis  there  where  mother,  child,  and 
wife,  reside.  Bereft  of  these,  roam  on,  0  lone  heart,  roam, 
o'er  crag  and  wold,  and  fell,  thou  hast  no  home. 

Hark !  from  the  Alp  crests  falls  a  whispered  strain,  like 
the  low  breeze  before  the  summer  rain.  Then  rises  in  the 
stillness,  to  a  psalm,  solemn,  and  sweet,  and  infinitely  calm. 
"  O  child  of  woman,  yearner  for  the  grave ;  sorrow  was  sent 
to  teach  thee  to  be  brave;  bow  not  nor  murmur  at  thy 
load  of  pain ;  what  man  hath  borne,  that  man  can  bear 


198  PYNNSIIUKST. 

again;  compare  the  burden  which  o'erweighs  thy  pride, 
with  that  which  pressed  upon  the  Crucified.  Then  leave 
thy  gloom  and  issue  into  day ;  go,  fulfil  man's  two  duties, 
work  and  pray.  Faithful  for  God,  live  bravely,  bravely  die, 
and  then  the  wanderer  hath  a  home  on  high." 


BOOK   IV 


ALPS. 


filer  weder  Lauferstab  noch  Kron' 

Die  schone  Welt  verzieret ; 
Hler  Gott  allein  sitzt  auf  den  Thron', 

Und  Gott  allein  regieret. 

BAGOESEN. — AlpenlieCt, 


I. 

THE   STROKG    CITY    OF   DUKE   BERCTHOLD. 

DILIGENCE  painted  yellow,  with  red  streaks  here  and 
there,  guided  by  postillion  in  blue  and  red,  and  pewter 
buttons  with  the  federal  cross,  and  hard  glazed  hat,  with 
white-washed  copper  band  :  Diligence,  whose  conductor 
carries  a  small  pouch  beneath  his  blue  and  silver  arm,  an 
ambulant  post-office,  and  who  keeps  incessantly  selling  his 
place  whenever  he  can  get  any  one  to  buy  it,  and  smokes 
very  bad  tobacco  indeed. 

Diligence,  drawn  by  horses  with  tails  en  papillate, 
within  thy  solemn  and  most  cavernous  gloom  lurk  some- 
thing like  a  dozen  living  mammalia,  bimana,  omnivorous, 
highest  'mid  vertebrated  animals,  among  whom  philosophers 
know  two  specimens  to  whom  are  given  these  names. 

Hugh  Brian  Aytner  Henry  Pynnshurst,  commonly  called 
9* 


202  PYNNSHURST. 

Hugh  Pynnshurst,  and  Augustus  Frederick  Kipps,  usually 
known  as  Gus  Kipps. 

On  then  they  roll  along  a  dusty  road  in  the  warm  July 
weather,  the  yellow  wheat  waving  in  the  fenceless  fields, 
and  crimson  poppies  mingling  with  the  golden  straw. 
"  Wheat,"  said  the  conductor,  pointing  out  enormous  fields 
"  which  sprang  from  two  grains  brought  in  the  pocket  of 
one  returned  from  far  Australia,  land  of  the  bush-ranger 
and  the  kangaroo ;  where  the  dodo  is  still  supposed  to 
exist,  and  where  shepherds  get  rich  when  the  natives  don't 
eat  them  young." 

Roaring  through  a  long  Gothic-roofed  bridge,  that  crosses 
the  tumbling  Aar,  they  find  themselves  in  Aarberg,  a  strong 
walled  city,  surrounded  by  the  river  in  high  tides,  and  nearly 
so  at  all  times. 

It  may  be  interesting  to  state  here  that  our  travellers 
drank  a  bottle  of  beer,  and  that  they  paid  a  shilling  for  it, 
sixpence  too  much  ;  but  perhaps  the  extra  sixpence  was  for 
the  extra  acid,  for  the  beer  was  very  sour. 

There  is  a  chateau  there,  and  several  other  buildings,  of 
what  nature,  outward  form,  or  inward  fashion,  I  do  not 
know,  and  Pynnshurst  did  not  discover ;  and  as  for  Kipps, 
bless  his  honest  heart,  he  never  bothered  his  head  about 
such  matters,  he  was  thinking  what  colored  gloves  he  ought 
to  wear  when  he  should  get  to  Berne. 

First  he  decided  on  straw-color,  and  asked  Pynnshurst 
how  he  thought  they  would  loci:;  Hugh  replied,  ''very 


THE    STRONG    CITY    OF    DUKE    BEKCTHOLI).  203 

well,"  and  Augustus  was  satisfied,  but  a  thought  presented 
itself  suddenly  that  it  was  too  light  a  color  for  a  Swiss  city, 
and  he  proposed  brown. 

"  Very  good,"  said  Hugh. 

"  Or  slate-color,  yes,  I  think  slate-color  will  be  best." 

"  Yes,"  said  Hugh. 

"Yes,"  said  Augustus,  and  so  the  gloves  were  settled 
and  he  gave  up  his  mind  unreservedly  to  the  consideration, 
of  pantaloons. 

So  beautiful  a  road  exists  nowhere  else  that  I  know  of. 
For  miles  on  miles,  broad,  smooth,  and  exquisitely  kept, 
lined  with  superbest  lindens,  and  with  elms,  and  now  and 
then  a  huge  wild-cherry  tree ;  a  very  avenue  it  is.  And* 
now  then,  look  there  to  the  right  where  soars  on  high  the 
square  tower  of  the  Cathedral  and  the  spire  of  the  Church 
of  St.  Esprit,  and  turret  dome  and  red  roof  glance  in  the 
sunshine,  and  the  Aar  roars  welcome  to  Berne. 

Swift  through  the  Morat  gate  you  pass,  and  the  huge 
bears  that  guard  it  loll  out  their  stone  tongues  at  you  as 
you  go  by  them  ;  and  you  rattle  into  the  post  court,  and 
emerge  from  your  four-wheeled  gaol.  You  are  in  the  city 
of  the  brave  old  dukes  of  Zoehringen. 

"  And*  now  will  I  give  you  what  of  the  history  of  this 

'  town'  is  known,  and  I  humbly  entreat  the  reader  that  if 

he  shall,  in  this  that  we  have  written,  find  anything  not 

delivered  according  to  the  truth,  he  will  not  impute  the  same 

*  Bede  Hist.  Ecc.,  B.  I.,  Pref. 


204  PYNNSHURST. 

to  me,  who,  as  the  rule  of  Histoiy  requires,  have  labored 
sincerely  to  commit  to  writing  such  things  as  I  could  gather 
from  common  report,  for  the  instruction  of  posterity." 

When  Kaiser  Henry  IV.  quarrelled  so  bitterly  with 
Gregory  VII.,  the  stoutest  opponent  of  the  Emperor,  and 
staunch  adherent  of  the  Pope  was  Bercthold,  Duke  of 
Zcehringen,  the  most  puissant  Seigneur  of  the  Black  Forest. 
He  having  several  times  well  drubbed  the  troops  of  Henry, 
at  last  made  friends  with  him,  and  received  from  him  in  fief 
all  the  seigneurial  rights  over  the  city  and  the  Monastery  of 
Zurich.  He  was  also  Landgrave  of  Burgundy,  and  exer- 
cised o'er  all  Burgundian  Switzerland  the  imperial  powers. 

Well,  when  Bercthold  IV.  found  himself  duke  he  looked 
about  for  a  fitting  place  to  build  himself  a  strong  city. 

By  the  blue  rushing  of  the  arrowy  Aar,  he  found  a  lofty 
hill,  solid  and  stixmg ;  on  three  sides,  girdled  by  the  torrent 
which  has  just  left  Lake  Thun ;  and  on  the  fourth  sloping  in 
an  inclined  plane,  off  to  the  West. 

There  from  the  summit,  when  the  sky  was  clear,  one  saw 
the  Bernese  Alps  from  Wetterhorn  to  Stockhorn  (the  peak 
of  thunder  and  the  stick-peaks).  Conical  Niesen  rises  there 
frowning  on  blue-lake  Thun,  and  backed  by  the  pale  gray 
Blumis  Alp.  Throned  in  the  midst,  the  Lady  of  the  Moun- 
tains, the  stately  virgin  queen  of  Oberland,  majestic  Yungfrau 
stands;  and  then  the  eye  ranges  on  along  the  snowy,  glacier- 
covered  mass,  whose  four  peaks,  more  or  less  like  sugar- 


TUB    STRONG    CITY    OF    1)UKE    BERCTHOLD.  205 

loves,  soar  up  into  the  clouds,  peaks  called  the  Eigera,  Monach, 
the  Finster  Aar-horn  (gloomy  peak  of  Eagles)  and  the 
Shreckhorn  (peak  of  Terror). 

"  There,"  said  good  Duke  Berchthold,  "  will  I  build  my 
strong  city." 

Then  he  called  his  wise  men  and  his  strong  men  about 
him,  carpenters,  and  smiths,  and  masons,  and  they  cut  their 
strong  foundation  in  the  hill  there,  and  they  piled  the  mighty 
walls,  and  fortified  the  great  chateau,  and  so  at  last  drew  a 
huge  line  of  bastion  and  redoubt  around  the  work  and  the 
strong  city  was  built.  And  the  duke  was  well  pleased. 

"  And  now,"  he  said  to  his  warriors,  "  to-morrow  go  we 
forth  to  the  chase ;  and  the  first  animal  that  we  slay  shall 
give  a  name  to  my  strong  city." 

So  with  the  morning,  knight  and  squire,  horse  and  hound, 
streamed  from  the  gates  there  towards  the  mountains,  and 
as  they  neared  them,  the  leashes  were  slipt,  the  dogs  sprang 
forward,  started,  coursed  and  killed  a  hare. 

"  That  does  not  count,"  said  Duke  Berchthold,  "  a  little 
timorous  beast  like  that  can  never  give  a  name  to  my  strong 
city. 

"  My  lord,  the  dogs  bay  on  the  mountain,"  cried  a 
squire. 

"  Forward  then,  and  may  the  game  be  a  brave  one  this 
time." 

It  was  a  sturdy  bear  (BAER)  ;  and  though  he  ran  well  and 
fought  well,  yet  he  was  floored  at  last,  and  they  slew  him 


20«3  I'YNNSHURST. 

there,  and  took  his  name  for  their  name  JBcern,  and  his  body 
for  arms. 

On  the  posts  of  the  Morat  gate,  two  enormous  bears  in 
granite  look  heavily  out  upon  the  linden-lined  road  as  if 
they  would  like  to  go  to  the  hills,  but  were  too  lazy.  The 
great  fountain  in  the  grand  street,  is  surmounted  by  a  sturdy 
bruin  armed  cap-au-pied,  a  sword  girt  at  his  side,  and  a 
banner  in  his  paws.  Another,  shows  an  archer  with  young 
cubs  for  squires. 

On  the  Zcit  glocken  Thurm,  the  mighty  "  time  clock 
tower"  built  in  good  Berchthold's  day,  in  1189,  the  same 
respectable  animal  amuses  the  charmed  populace  each  time 
the  clock  strikes.  A  fat  man,  crowned  and  throned,  marks 
every  stroke,  by  yawning  like  a  true  Swiss,  by  lifting  and 
by  lowering  his  sceptre  ;  a  wooden  cock  goes  past,  flapping 
his  wings ;  a  manikin  beats  on  the  bell  with  a  huge  ham- 
mer ;  and  a  bear  procession  passes,  some  armed,  some  carry- 
ing flags,  some,  instruments  of  music. 

In  fact  the  bear  is  everywhere.  He  ramps  in  the  centre 
of  that  respectable  coin  the  batz,  value  three  cents ;  he 
grins  from  inn  post  and  from  sculptured  frieze  :  and  finally, 
male  and  female,  inhabits  in  full  life,  a  small  paradise  of  his 
own  on  the  ramparts  of  the  city. 

From  time  immemorial  two  have  been  preserved,  which 
cost  at  present  seven  hundred  francs  a  year.  They  used  to 
live  within  the  walls ;  but  were  banished  for  a  little  indis- 


THE    STROSG    CITY    OF    DUKE    BERCTHOLD.  207 

cretion  on  the  part  of  the  lady ;  she  managed  to  climb  the 
wall  of  her  apartment  and  ate  a  boy. 

Some  say  that  this  was  considered  as  a  crime  for  which 
she  was  exiled  to  the  ramparts ;  but  others  hold,  and  more 
reasonably,  that  the  boy  was  an  unwholesome  boy,  that  he 
disagreed  with  her,  and  that  she  was  removed  to  her  present 
abode  for  change  of  air.  She  seems  in  excellent  health  at, 
present,  and  annually  presents  her  lord  with  two  young 
cubs  who  unite  their  father's  stateliness  with  the  tenderer 
graces  of  their  gentle  mama. 

When  in  1798,  the  French  republicans  took  possession 
of  the  city,  they  sent  the  bears  to  the  Jardin  des  plantes 
in  pursuance  of  that  very  French  notion,  Dieu  Jit  la  France 
pour  lui-meme,  et  toute  autre  chose  pour  la  France.  But 
when  le  bon  temps  revint  the  first  care  of  the  Bernois  was, 
to  re-establish  their  illustrious  fellow  citizens  in  peaceable 
possession  of  their  former  privileges. 

In  the  superb  park  or  esplanade  which  from  behind  the 
cathedral  looks  over  the  warring  Aar  upon  the  glorious  pan- 
orama of  the  Bernese  Alps ;  where  lindens  so  magnificently 
rich  in  foliage  that  the  very  rain  cannot  penetrate  them, 
shadow  the  gravelled  walks,  clustering  with  long-haired 
students  and  white-corsaged  nursery  maids;  here,  say  I, 
stands  upon  a  marble  pedestal  a  very  fine  bronze  duke 
Bercthold,  uncovered  and  leaning  on  his  sword. 

An  armed  bear,  bare-headed,  bears  his  casque,  which  few 
could  bear  in  our  degenerate  day.  Those  heavy  head  pieces 


208  PYNXSHURST. 

borne  of  old  by  that  well  born  race,  now  long  since  gone 
unto  "  that  bourne  from  which  no  traveller  returns." 

On  the  four  sides  of  that  square  pedestal,  are  four  square 
plates  of  bronze,  where,  sculptured  in  high  and  delicate  relief, 
shine  forth  four  deeds  of  Berchthold.  In  one  he  builds 
his  strong  city ;  in  another  he  stands  amid  his  hunters, 
backed  by  the  Alps,  his  foot,  and  sword-point  on  a  bear 
defunct,  and  underneath  him  this  hexameter — Ex  bellua 
occisa  nomen  sit  urbis  futurce.  "  From  the  slain-beast  shall 
come  the  name  of  the  city."  What  he  does  in  the  other  two 
is  a  matter  forgotten. 

Look  over  the  edge  of  this  esplanade.  An  hundred  feet 
below,  the  Aar  tumbles  frothily  over  a  dam  ;  there  is  the 
island  of  baths ;  there  too  the  lower  village,  where  the  plebs 
congregate  and  vegetate.  Hence,  Theodore  Weinzoefflin 
fell  with  his  horse ;  one  of  them  was  killed,  the  other  lived 
and  became  a  parson. 

There  is  the  cathedral ;  go  in  and  look  at  it.  That  ancient, 
gentleman,  who  talks  no  French  and  very  little  German,  will 
conduct  you  for  the  modest  sum  of  seven  batzen,  round  the 
walls  ;  will  tell  you  how  Matthew  Oezinger,  and  his  son 
Vincent  built  it  in  1422  ;  will  show  you  very  good  sculp- 
ture on  the  parapet ;  and  the  Last  Judgment,  with  the  wise 
and  foolish  Virgins  above  the  portal. 

Inside  he  will  show  you  a  tablet  with  seven  hundred 
names  of  seven  hundred  Bernese  slain  by  the  French,  in- 
scribed thereon  ;  another  monument  to  Berchthold,  and  a 


THE    STRONG    CITY    OF    DUKE    BERCTHOLD.  203 

fine  wood-work  Choir,  where  Martin  Luther  represents  an 
Apostle. 

There  is  a  pretty  Greek  church,  (du  St.  Esprit)  and 
another,  in  the  old  part  of  the  town,  called  the  French 
church,  where  the  blinded  papists  are  permitted  by  the 
liberal  government  to  take  turn  about  with  the  more  en- 
lightened Calvinists.  Issue  forth  now  into  the  arcaded 
streets  ;  sunshine  or  rain,  'tis  all  one  to  pedestrians  in  Berne, 
every  side  walk  is  an  arcade  ;  you  are  always  in  the  shelter, 
except  when  you  cross  the  streets 

Right  pleasant  it  is  to  walk  through  the  bear  city,  and 
examine  the  inhabitants. 

Here,  by  her  little  counter,  on  the  edge  of  the  curb-stone, 
a  black-eyed  coquette,  with  tresses  of  unheard  of  richness, 
offers  you  pictures  or  carved  wood  from  the  Oberland,  or  a 
painted  pipe  or  a  tobacco-pouch,  or  some  other  nonsense, 
with  a  smile  revealing  exquisite  teeth,  a  beauty  that  nearly 
all  the  Bernese  women  possess. 

Further  along  is  a  young  peasant  girl,  in  purple  skirt, 
black  velvet  boddice,  cut  very  low  in  front  to  show  the  snowy 
linen  that  mounts  up  to  her  round,  sunburnt  throat ;  where 
the  bodice  ends  and  the  linen  begins,  on  each  side  is  a  silver 
rose,  or  heart,  or  star,  or  some  such  affair,  from  which  hang 
silver  chains,  which,  gracefully  depending,  pass  under  the 
arms,  and  are  fastened  to  another  rose  or  star  upon  the 
shoulder  behind.  Her  short  white  sleeves  are  covered  on 
the  outside  with  a  plait  of  linen  starched  into  steel-like 


210  PYNNSHURST. 

stiffness ;  her  rich,  black  hair  hangs  in  two  braids  nearly 
to  the  ground,  the  ends  of  the  ribbon  that  fasten  it  trail  in 
the  dust :  the  hem  of  her  purple  skirt  is  bound  with  red 
cloth  of  an  inch  in  width. 

That  is  her  mother  or  her  aunt  there  with  her,  dressed 
very  like  her,  except  that  her  hair  is  snooded  up,  and  that 
she,  the  mother  or  aunt,  wears  a  black  cap,  with  black  lace 
wings  stiffened  out  with  wires  for  a  foot  on  each  side  of  her 
face,  so  that  the  head  looks,  at  a  distance,  like  a  gigantic 
black  butterfly. 

That  young  follow  yonder  with  the  sturdy  calves  cased  in 
ribbed  woollen  stockings,  and  carrying  that  huge  milk 
barrel  on  his  back,  may  be  her  lover.  His  nether  garments 
cut  off  at  the  knee,  rise  up  to  the  middle  of  his  chest,  and  are 
kept  in  place  by  two  embroidered  straps  that  cross  the 
shoulders  ;  he  has  a  red  silk  handkerchief  about  his  throat, 
and  a  rose  in  his  mouth.  Go  thy  ways  for  a  good-looking 
fellow,  O  father  of  future  Bernois. 

But  what  is  chis  next  ?  A  small  green  cap,  shaped  like 
I  don't  know  what — like  a  pear  with  the  blossom  end 
on  the  head — like  a  green  paper  candle-shade — like 
a  pyramid  of  ice-cream  beginning  to  fall — like  itself,  in  a 
word,  and  like  no  other  thing;  with  an  appearance  of 
fulling  that  makes  you  put  your  hand  up  instinctively  to 
save  it.  This  thing,  I  say,  is  placed  upon  a  mane  of  hair, 
black  or  blonde,  which  tumbles  on  the  owner's  shoulders. 

He,  with  sweet,  rose-cheeked,  open,  blue-eyed   face,  or 


THE    STKONO    CITY    OF    1H7KK    BKKCTHOLD.  211 

with  deep,  gipsy  tint,  and  wild,  thoughtful,  black  eyes  ; 
with  the  young,  cherished  moiistache  upon  the  upper  lip, 
and  the  old,  cherished  pipe  below  it ;  with  the  broad,  white 
collar  turned  over  the  loose  coat,  covered  with  braid,  bears 
a  thick  stick  in  his  hand,  and  goes  fast  on  his  way.  He 
nods  to  every  pretty  girl,  with  some  quaint  salutation  that 
provokes  a  smile ;  he  gets  out  of  everybody's  road  that  shows 
signs  of  politeness  for  him,  but  butts  up  violently  against 
rude  men ;  and  asks  fiercely,  "  Gott  im  Himmel !  Can't 
you  look  where  you  go  ?"  "Well,  that  is  a  German  student. 

But  look  at  that  group.  A  fat  red  faced  gentleman,  in 
black  coat,  brown  trowsers,  and  white  vest  and  cravat, 
whose  right  hand  plays  with  a  bunch  of  rich  seals,  which 
hang  from  a  ribbon  in  the  old  style.  Upon  his  arm  is  a  fat 
red-faced  lady,  in  silks  fur-trimmed,  August  though  it  be ;  in 
her  hand  is  a  reticule,  a  large  parasol,  a  brown  paper  bundle 
and  a  spectacle  case.  Every  two  minutes  she  looks  over  her 
shoulder  to  call  after  two  very  tall  girls  and  two  very  tall 
boys,  all  very  fair,  blue-eyed  and  blond-curly  haired,  the 
girls  having  ringlets,  the  boys  close  crops. 

They  have  all  grown  much  too  fast,  are  very  shaky  and 
unsolid  in  their  general  appearance ;  walk  as  if  their  legs 
were  entirely  new  and  they  were  trying  them  on  for  the  first 
time ;  their  arms  swing  loosely  about  as  if  they  had  no 
sockets  at  the  shoulder ;  but  were  fastened  on  merely  with 
a  piece  of  thread ;  they  keep  their  mouths  open,  and  laugh 
occasionally  in  a  vacant  manner. 


212  PYXNSHURST. 

The  youngest  boy  jerks  up  his  leg  every  minute,  to  pull 
up  a  stocking  which  seems  to  have  a  propensity  to  get  from 
under  the  thraldom  and  shadow  of  the  trouser.  That  is  a 
"  respectable  English  family  travelling  in  Switzerland."  The 
girls  have  tartan  shawls  of  course. 

But  stop  ;  there  he  comes  ;  get  out  of  his  way  !  Robed 
in  full  black,  long  in  a  dress-coat,  yellow  and  meagre; 
getting  into  every  body's  way,  finding  every  body  in  his ; 
pricing  every  article  from  one  end  of  the  street  to  the  other ; 
turning  round  to  look  under  women's  bonnets ;  carrying 
his  gloves  in  his  hands  ;  biting  occasionally  at  a  small  ivory 
horse-head  on  top  of  the  rattan,  in  his  large  red  hand ;  with 
an  expression  half  conceited,  and  half  astonished,  with  his 
mouth  puckered  into  a  half  whistle — that's  a  United 
Stateser. 

These  and  many  other  things  sees  Hugh  Pynnshurst  as 
he  strolls  beneath  the  arcades  of  Duke  Berchthold's  strong- 
city. 

Off  yonder,  is  the  tower  of  the  Grand  Goliath ;  it  was 
made  originally  for  a  Saint  Christopher  ;  but  they  have 
turned  the  Christian  into  a  Paynim,  and  he  frowns  there  very 
red  in  the  face.  He  is  some  thirty  feet  of  stature,  leans 
upon  a  two  handed  Swiss-sword  and  scowls  upon  a  small 
stone  David,  who  menaces  him  with  a  sling  from  a  fountain 
top  in  the  street  below. 

The  fountains  in  all  Swiss  cities  are  droll ;  in  Berne 
specially  so ;  they  are  all  columns  with  figures  on  the  top. 


THE    STRONG    CITY    OF    DUKE    BERCTHOLD.  213 

You  find  Moses  with  his  horns  of  light ;  a  fat  man  munch- 
ing a  baby,  called  the  Ogre ;  an  ancient  Swiss  Archer ;  a 
Bear ;  Sampson  ;  Justice  ;  what  you  will. 

Opposite  the  grand  porch  of  the  Cathedral,  is  a  superb 
equestrian  statue  of  Rodolph  von  Erlach,  the  hero  of 
Laupen ;  who,  when  retired  to  cincinnatize  upon  his  paternal 
acres,  quarrelled  about  money  matters  with  an  amiable  son- 
in-law,  who  cut  the  throat  of  Count  Rodolph. 

In  the  low  balconied  windows  are  bright-colored  cushions 
for  those  who  are  idle  enough  to  look  out  upon  the  passen- 
gers. The  majority  of  the  gentlemen  wear  spectacles ; 
donkey  carts  are  numerous,  so  are  donkeys. 

Hugh  should  have  gone  to  the  Falke  ;  but  he  had  asked 
for  advice  from  a  fellow-traveller,  who  sent  him  to  /'  Abbaye 
du  Singe,  the  tavern  of  the  monkey,  much  to  his  after  dis- 
content. Suppose  him  arrived,  received  by  a  curious  little 
red-headed  individual,  who  was,  perhaps,  the  monkey  in 
person,  speaking  very  little  French  indeed,  and  assigned* 
to  his  room.  Suppose  him  washed  and  gone  to  dinner,  after 
table  (FH'dte  hours,  and  therefore,  with  covers  for  only  Kipps, 
himself,  and  a  third  person. 

Oh !  what  a  very,  very  bad  dinner  it  was  !  Then,  at  fish- 
time,  the  door  opened  and  a  pale  man  in  carpet  slippers 
came  in,  bowed  solemnly,  sat  down  opposite  the  third  cover, 
and  eat  in  silence,  till  the  first  roast  had  been  discussed. 
Then  he  opened  his  mouth  and  said  as  follows,  very  slowly 
in  English  that  smelled  strongly  of  the  North  of  Ireland. 


214  PYNNSHTJRST. 

"  If  I  don't  speak  to  you,  don't  think  I  am  unsociable ; 
most  English  are  unsociable  ;  I'm  not  so  meself.  I've  got  a 
sick  boy  here,  and  am  fatigued  with  attending  on  him.  Me 
wife  is  also  fatigued.  I've  a  friend  who  has  passed  all  his 
summers  for  thirty  years  in  this  hotel ;  and  I've  another 
friend,  a  devilish  fine  fellow,  in  the  dragoon-guards,  who  has 
done  the  same  thing  for  fifteen.  An  Englishman  died  here 
the  other  day,  from  cutting  a  corn.  The  toe  mortified,  and 
they  cut  off  the  toe  ;  the  foot  mortified,  and  they  cut  off  the 
foot ;  the  leg  mortified,  and  they  cut  off  the  leg ;  the  body 
mortified,  and  then  he  died ;  I  never  cut  me  corns  meself,  I 
file  'em. 

Then  he  ate  some  roast  veal,  half  a  chicken,  considerable 
salad,  a  bird,  a  large  mass  of  pudding,  a  quarter  of  a  tart,  a 
piece  of  sponge  cake,  and  some  stewed  prunes.  Washed 
them  all  down  with  half  a  bottle  of  thin,  white  wine,  rose, 
bowed  solemnly,  sighed  heavily,  and  passed  slowly  from  the 
ipartment,  with  his  hands  crossed  calmly  over  his  stomach. 

After  the  dinner,  which  was  served  by  the  porter  in  a 
blue  coat,  Hugh  went  up  to  his  room,  and  sate  himself 
down  for  a  moment  to  think.  The  door  opened ;  a  tall 
man,  hat  on  head  and  segar  in  mouth,  for  the  Swiss  resem- 
ble the  Americans  in  these  politenesses,  walked  in,  came 
up  to  the  table  and  seized  a  pen,  an  inkstand,  and  a  broken 
segar,  which  lay  thereon.  Then  he  searched  about  the 
apartment,  examined  the  baggage,  and  turned  round. 
Hugh  was  on  his  feet  by  this  time,  and  had  gone  to  the 


THE    STRONG    CITY    OF    DITKE    BEUCTHOLl).  215 

window  to  see  how  high  it  was  from  the  ground,  when  the 
strange  man  spoke. 

"  This  morning,  when  I  went  out,  Monsieur,  this  was  my 
room ;  if  I  came  in  without  knocking,  it  was  because  I  thought 
it  was  still  my  room." 

"  Have  you  not  mistaken  the  number  ?"  asked  Hugh. 

"Here  is  my  inkstand  and  pen,"  replied  the  stranger 
"  but  my  trunks  have  vanished.  It  is  very  curious,  I 
will  go  and  inquire ;"  and  he  disappeared  as  coolly  as  he 
came.  4 

When  Hugh  had  gotten  over  this  and  had  set  himself 
down  to  think  again,  a  chambermaid  entered,  and  requested 
him  to  go  and  take  a  walk  as  she  wished  to  change  the  bed- 
clothes. He  looked  at  her  stupidly,  and  begged  her  to 
repeat  what  she  had  said.  The  repetition  was  exact. 

"Bless  my  soul,"  he  thought,  "what  an  uncommonly 
funny  hotel  this  is ;  but  no  good  ever  comes  of  disobeying 
a  woman,  so  I  will  go  and  see  Kipps." 

But  he  met  Kipps  in  the  hall,  coming  to  see  him,  for 
Augustus  had  just  suffered  the  same  fate. 

"  By  Jove !"  he  said,  "  this  is  a  little  too  strong,  Pynns- 
hurst,  especially  as  it  rains.  What  shall  we  do  ?" 

"  Go  drink  our  coflfee  at  a  Cafe,"  said  Hugh,  and  they 
departed,  and  from  the  Cafe  they  went  on  the  ramparts  to 
look  at  the  deer ;  and  at  night  to  the  theatre,  where  a 
French  company  played  Le  nuit  aux  soufflets  and  le  Capi- 
taine  Charlotte. 


216  PYNNSHURST. 

After  a  tolerable  sleep,  they  met  at  breakfast  in  the 
morning,  and  after  the  matutinal  Havanna,  went  together  to 
the  Museum,  where  they  saw  an  ibex  and  some  Alpine 
lynxes,  and  a  mighty  lammergeyer,  and  lots  of  bears  and 
an  ancient  camelopard  with  the  hair  nearly  all  worn  off, 
and  the  stuffed  skin  of  Barry,  the  noble  dog  of  St.  Bernard, 
who  was  shot  by  a  perishing  voyager  who  took  the  kind 
friend  for  an  enemy — the  dog  of  St.  Bernard  for  a  wolf. 
There  they  saw  all  the  portraits  of  the  old  Avoyers  of  Berne, 
and  the  Prie  Diei*  of  Charles  le  Temeraire,  and  various 
other  matters  equally  entertaining  and  interesting. 

So  the  time  passed  away  till  twelve  o'clock,  when  they 
went  to  tiy  the  early  table  d'hdte.  It  was  served  by  the 
red  monkey  before  mentioned,  and  by  the  gentleman  who 
was  waiter  when  in  blue  coat,  porter  in  brown  linen  jacket, 
and  shoeblack  in  shirt-sleeves. 

Hugh  got  no  farther  than  tho  soup  ;  it  had  such  large 
things  swimming  in  it,  that  he  resolved  to  go  away,  and 
take  places  in  the  diligence  for  Thun,  leaving  Kipps  to  pay 
the  bill,  for  that  soup  terrified  him  ;  it  was  like  that  which 
they  served  at  the  Invalides.  You  know  the  story  ?  No  ! 
Well,  one  day,  it  came  upon  the  table  with  a  cavalry  boot 
in  it.  The  veterans  remonstrated  with  the  cook,  and  re- 
quested that  it  might  not  happen  again.  "We  know," 
said  they,  "  that  it  isn't  dirty,  but  it  takes  up  room!" 


n. 

ON    TO    INTERLAKEN. 

"  YES,  Kipps,  my  dear  boy,  we  have  the  coupee,  and  we 
are  now  going  to  see  the  scenery.  You  must  get  your  soul 
ready  for  sublime  impressions,  my  good  fellow." 

"  I  have  -worn  these  shoes  since  I  left  Paris,  and  there  is 
not  a  crack  in  them  yet,"  said  Augustus  Kipps. 

So  they  go  to  the  Post-Bureau  and  take  their  places,  one 
window,  one  middle  seat. 

Then  there  is  a  violent  darting  hither  and  thither  on  the 
part  of  the  people  in  general.  Somebody  is  saying  adieu  to 
the  third  man  in  the  coupee  in  most  guttural  Dutch.  The 
clerk  calls  the  roll ;  the  conductor  mounts  the  box  beside 
the  postillion,  the  latter  gathers  up  the  reins  in  his  hand, 
cracks  his  long  whip,  and  away  they  go  over  the  stones, 
out  at  the  same  Morat  gate,  by  a  continuation  of  the  same 
avenue  linden-lined. 
10 


218  PYNNSHURST. 

Along  the  fertile  valley  of  the  Aar,  dotted  with  many  a 
village  and  farm  where  the  huge  red  roofs  glisten  amid 
trees,  or  spot  the  rich  green  pasture  lands.  The  river  is 
rarely  visible;  but  on  high  there,  show  themselves  the 
snowy  summits  of  the  Bernese  Alps,  and  by  and  bye,  as  the 
sun  sinks  behind  the  hills,  you  roll  into  Thun,  quaintest  of 
quaint  little  towns. 

When  you  are  in  the  street,  the  side  walks  are  high  above 
your  head ;  and  in  front  of  eveiy  shop  is  a  small  park  of 
its  own,  some  ten  or  twelve  feet  square,  provided  with 
benches,  where  the  inhabitants  may  sit  and  gaze  peacefully 
down,  through  their  ambient  pipe  clouds,  on  the  tops  of 
the  diligences  or  other  vehicles  that  pass  by  below. 

There,  after  a  good  supper,  slept  they  well,  for  beds  and 
all  else  are  excellent  at  the  Hotel  Bellevue.  And  in  the 
morning,  when  they  waked  and  rose,  the  rain  came  down  as 
if  it  had  been  paid  for  it.  There  was  no  sky  in  particular, 
but  all  above  looked  like  a  very  large  lead  roof,  very  thor- 
oughly oxidized  ;  grey,  spotty,  dull,  very  unpretty,  bad  for 
the  tourist  in  Switzerland. 

But  in  half  an  hour,  it  had  ceased  to  pour ;  and  that 
most  patience  trying  of  all  known  weathers,  the  dull  Scotch 
mist  came  on ;  the  rain  degenerated  into  a  drizzle  ;  and  the 
drizzle,  by  its  persistence,  erected  itself  into  a  nuisance. 
What  was  to  be  done  until  two  o'clock,  the  hour  of 
departure  ? 


ON    TO    INTKRLAKEN.  219 

Play  a  game  of  chess  with  Kipps  ?  No,  Augustus  was 
looking  at  his  shoes  and  might  not  be  disturbed.  Go  out, 
in  front,  and  talk  to  the  guides  ?  No,  for  they  could  talk 
of  nothing  but  the  propriety  of  engaging  them.  They  are 
like  the  good  Doctor  in  Joe  Miller. 

"  Doctor,  I  am  very  unwell ;  I  have  such  and  such 
symptoms ;  what  do  you  think  I  had  better  take  ?" 

"  I  think,  my  dear  Madam,  that  you  had  better  take 
advice? 

So  with  those  worthy  men  grouped  about  the  front 
piazza  there,  with  their  brown  linsey-woolsey  clothes  and 
round  white  felt  hats. 

"  It  is  extraordinary  weather,"  says  the  tourist,  "  I  do  not 
know  whether  to  stay  or  go  on  ;  pray,  my  good  friend, 
what  would  you  recommend  ?" 

"  I  should  recommend  Monsieur  to  take  a  guide,"  and 
out  comes  the  little  book  of  certificates,  and  the  tourist  is 
besought  to  read  how  Mr.  Buggins,  Monsieur  Pautin  or 
Herr  von  Hundertdonner  crossed  such  and  such  passes,  and 
found  the  possessor  of  said  book  faithful,  etc.,  etc.,  und  der 
ffleichen  mehr,  saith  the  Deutcher. 

But  by  this  time  Kipps  has  sufficiently  contemplated  his 
shoes  ;  and  the  other  portions  of  his  dress  offering  no  par- 
ticular inducements  to  prolonged  meditation,  he  proposes  a 
walk,  and  so  they  muffle  themselves  in  their  plaids,  roll  up 
their  trousers,  and  start. 


220  PYNKSHURST. 

They  get  just  outside  of  the  garden  fence  when  they 
hear, 

"  Wollen  die  Herren  etwas  Tcauffen  .?" 

"  Achetez  quelque  chose  chez  moi,  Messieurs."11 

They  lift  their  eyes  and  see  a  row  of  little  shops  where 
wood  is  cut  into  most  expensive  shapes.  They  enter  and 
find  themselves  surrounded.  Work  boxes,  corbeilles,  bell 
ropes  made  of  wood,  match-boxes,  glove-boxes,  things  to 
wind  silk  on,  painted  with  Swiss  landscapes,  water  falls, 
mountains,  "  scenery,"  as  Kipps  says,  what  you  will. 

There  are  Chalets,  wooden  men  and  women,  bears, 
chamois,  ibexes,  birds,  needle  cases,  cows,  laitiers  from  the 
pasture-land,  cheese-makers  from  the  Alps,  chamois  horns 
and  skins,  work  tables,  chairs,  anything  you  like.  So  you 
spend  every  cent  in  your  pocket  and  go  out  feeling  very 
repentant. 

Then  they  passed  through  the  town,  and  out  along  the 
edge  of  the  lake  to  Schadau,  where  one  of  Louis  Philippe's 
steam-manufactured  banker  barons  builds  a  chateau  in  tho 
style  of  the  renaissance.  Over  the  lake  there,  sharp  peaked 
conical  Niesen  shows  his  coned  outline  through  the  veiling 
haze,  and  the  mightier  mass,  just  hinted  through  the  gloom, 
is  Stockhorn. 

They  get  sufficiently  wet,  and  so  go  back,  feeling  very 
Swiss-touristical,  to  an  early  dinner  ;  and  then  the  sun  comes 
out  to  light  them  to  the  little  iron  steamer  which  shall  take 
them  down  to  Nieuhaus. 


O.\'    TO    INTERLAKEN.  221 

0  bright  sweet  lake  of  Thun,  as  the  rushing  Aar  pours 
through  thee,  Tiis  waters  mingle  lovingly  with  thine  and 
leave  them  lingeringly,  to  go  their  way  and  kiss  the  feet  of 
the  strong  city  of  Duke  Berchthold,  then  on,  to  seek  their 
rest  on  the  broad  bosom  of  old  Father  Rhine. 

Pretty  country  seats  are  on  thy  banks,  and  bright  gar- 
dens make  gay  thy  shores.  Southward,  there  by  Stock- 
horn's  foot,  stands  the  castle  of  Spietz,  built,  saith  the  chron 
icle,  by  Attila,  when  he  led  his  conquering  Huns  towards 
the  fertile  South,  and  won  the  fearful  title,  "  Scourge  of 


Yonder  there  that  huge  black  rock  mass  contains  the 
Cavern  of  St.  Beatus. 

Voyaging,  a  soldier,  from  England,  his  birth-land,  to  visit 
the  Emperor  Claudius  at  Rome,  he  had  noticed  this  place 
upon  his  journey,  and  at  his  return,  he  examined  it  more 
particularly.  He  found  a  double  cavern,  wild  and  savage, 
through  which  a  little  rivulet  ran  ;  some  wild  fruit  grew 
beside  the  mouth  of  the  cave  ;  and  there  the  good  man  rested, 
chasing  away,  saith  the  legend,  a  dragon  which  inhabited 
it. 

The  wild  Helvetians  gathered  about  the  stranger,  and 
first  heard  from  his  lips  the  message  of  GOD'S  love  ;  and  the 
first  converts  brought  others,  and  their  numbers  swelled  to 
thousands.  So  to  his  cave-home,  by  the  blue  sweet  waters, 
what  time  his  work  was  done,  came  GOD'S  pure  angels,  and 
carried  the  holy  one  to  his  rest  on  high. 


222  PTNNSHUBST. 

For  many  an  age  came  pious  pilgrims  to  that  cavern  to 
pray;  but  in  1550  the  Canton  of  Berne  closed  S.  Beat's 
cave,  and  walled  up  the  entrance,  and  forbade  the  peasant 
to  bend  his  knee  in  that  home  of  the  first  Christian  of  Switzer- 
land. 

But  when  the  tourist  found  that  the  place  was  a  curious 
one,  then  Berne  took  down  the  wall,  and  built  a  cabaret, 
and  those  other  yawning  pilgrims  came,  who  pay  but  pray 
not.  And  Berne  was  satisfied,  for  there  is  no  superstition 
in  a  dollar.  Point  d"  argent,  point  de  Suisse  ;  mais  beau- 
coup  d>  argent,  tant  de  Swisses  que  Von  voudrait. 

But  the  boat  stops  at  Nieuhaus,  and  Hugh  and  Kipps  em- 
bark in  an  anomalous  barouche,  and  are  borne  through 
Unterseen  (between  Lakes)  to  Interlachen,  beloved  of  the 
"  English  tourist  in  Switzerland." 

Rain,  rain,  rain !  From  the  portico  of  the  Hotel  des  Alpes, 
the  travellers,  huddled  there  like  chickens  under  a  shed,  look 
dismally  out  upon  the  muddy  road ;  where  they  see  donkey 
carts  and  puddles  and  the  very  thick  ankles  of  the  peasant 
women  who  pass  with  huge  panniers  on  their  heads. 

Guides  innumerable  stand  along  by  the  gate-posts  and 
line  the  fences.  English  without  limit,  crowd  the  hotel. 
One  young  man  beside  Hugh,  who  has  devoted  his  energies 
to  the  cultivation  of  some  yellow  fuzz  upon  his  upper  lip, 
sits  there  passing  his  finger  again  and  again  over  the  top  of 
his  mouth,  and  evidently  deludes  himself  into  the  idea  that 
he  is  playing  with  a  moustache.  Another  young  man,  who 


ON    TO    INTERLAKEN.  223 

looks   weak-minded,   asks    him  if  he   buys   his   boots  in 
Paris. 

He  says  no,  but  that  he  wishes  it  would  stop  raining. 

Then  the  weak-minded  young  man  remarks,  that  it  is 
*  the  most  miserable  day  that  he  has  seen  for  a  long  time ;" 
and  so  both  relapse  into  silence. 

Kipps  comes  down  stairs  in  full  dress,  and  finding  to  his 
surprise  that  the  rain  is  as  bad  as  it  was  five  minutes  before, 
goes  immediately  back  to  his  room,  and  puts  on  his  foul 
weather  suit. 

In  the  parlor  there,  that  young  lady  in  blue  who  sat  down 
by  the  piano  just  now,  has  been  taken  with  a  fit,  and  screams 
violently — 

"  Love  not !  love  not !  the  thing  you  love  may  die !'' 

Hugh  supposes  that  she  has  become  deranged  in  con- 
sequence of  some  affair  of  the  heart. 

Then  he  demands  if  Augustus  will  walk  down  by  the 
village,  but  the  latter  prefers  going  into  the  parlor,  where  he 
opens  himself  like  a  compass  in  front  of  the  fire,  and  looks 
alternately  at  his  patent-leathers  and  at  the  deranged  young 
lady,  who  continues  to  scream. 

In  the  thirteenth  century  the  Lutschinn,  a  torrent-river, 
ran  along  here,  and  by  its  yearly  inundations  converted 
the  whole  valley  into  an  unwholesome  marsh.  But  a 
convent  of  Augustinians  settled  there ;  turned  with  much 
labor  (those  drones  of  the  dark  ages),  the  stream  into  the 
lake  of  Brienz  and  won  the  fair  land  from  the  waters. 


224  PYNNSHURST. 

Hugh  found  their  monument,  down  yonder  mid  the 
madeira  nut  trees;  the  black,  bare,  desolate,  but  stately, 
even  magnificent  arches  of  the  Gothic  church  and 
monastery. 

"  A  mighty  window,  hollow  in  the  centre, 

Shorn  of  its  glass  of  thousand  colorings, 
Through  which  the  deepened  glories  once  could  enter, 

Streaming  from  off  the  sun,  like  seraphs'  wings, 
Now  yawns  all  desolate ;  now  loud  now  fainter 
The  gale  sweeps  through  the  fret- work,  and  oft  sings 
The  owl  his  anthem,  where  the  silenced  quire 
Lie,  with  their  halleluias  quenched  like  fire." 

In  the  huge  chancel,  they  have  fitted  up  a  chapel  for  the 
English  Episcopal  service ;  and  in  the  crypts  below,  a  small 
oblong  room  holds  the  Catholic  altar,  and  a  few  rude  wooden 
benches. 

There  in  the  ancient  monastery  meet  the  two  creeds,  the 
ancient  and  the  new,  but  both  now,  stranger  iu  that 
land. 

Peep  through  the  grating  of  the  door  there,  and  see  those 
poor  plain  candlesticks,  the  tabernacle,  and  the  image  of  the 
agonized  Redeemer  that  mark  the  temple  of  the  ancient  faith, 
while  from  the  side  there  on  a — 

"  Niche  alone  but  crowned, 
The  Virgin-mother  of  the  God-born  child, 
With  her  son  in  hei  blessed  arms  looks  round,' 


ON    TO    INTERLAKEN.  225 

But  outside  climbs  the  ivy  up  the  mouldering  buttress  ; 
the  rank  weed  nods  from  the  ruined  window ;  the  white 
moss  clings  upon  the  splintered  pinacles,  and  the  good  fathers 
who  reclaimed  the  valley  are  in  the  dust — 

"  Their  souls  are  with  the  saints  we  trust." 

Back  to  the  gay  hotel. 

Turn  thee,  Hugh  Pynnshurst,  from  the  mournful  past, 
which  looks  out  upon  thee  from  those  ruins,  with  sad,  calm, 
eyes ;  thou  dwellest  too  long  with  the  bye-gone.  It  is  not 
now  the  heroic  faithful  age,  and  thy  heart,  cast  in  an  old 
forgotten  mould,  is  wearing  itself  away  in  its  love  for  that 
which  has  been.  The  wind  through  the  shattered  cloisters 
chants  its  melancholy  psalm,  sad  and  low  like  the  wail  of 
an  angel.  Sweet  is  its  music ;  but  it  is  not  well  for  thoe. 
Out  from  the  shadows !  go  into  the  world,  seek  out  the  task 
God  sets  thee,  and  so,  labor  and  pray  ! 

Pynnshurst  is,  I  fear,  irrevocably  behind  the  age.  He 
doubts  whether  steam  be  much  of  a  benefit ;  he  has  little 
reverence  for  the  great  dollar ;  he  does  not  like  all  this  new 
upturning  of  society  ;  he  don't  believe  in  the  dreams  of  Mr. 
Prudhomme,  nor  of  Hahnemann,  nor  of  Fourrier :  he  goes 
as  his  old  Norman  sires  went ;  he  is  one  of  those  men  who 
have  long  pedigrees,  and  believe  in  God. 

As  he  goes  back,  he  passes  a  peasant  seated  in  his  cart 
10* 


226 

in  the  midst  of  a  half  dozen  pigs,  and  looking  so  contented 
that  Hugh  thinks  of  the  old  French  song  : 

"  Oii  peut  on  6tre  mieux, 
Qu'au  sein  de  sa  famille  ?" 

He  has  only  time  to  dress  when  the  dinner  bell  rings, 
and  he  descends.  Oh,  what  floods  of  English,  and  how  very 
much  over-dressed  two-thirds  of  them  are ;  and  how  very 
much  the  ladies  are  not  pretty. 

Kipps  is  in  an  agony.  He  did  not  know  that  there  was 
so  much  company  in  the  house,  and  he  has  a  colored 
vest  on.  But  he  buttons  his  coat,  and  feels  more  re- 
signed. 

So  matters  jog  on  until  the  morning. 

And  now,  when  he  opens  his  eyes  and  gets  up  and  goes 
to  the  window,  he  thinks  of  what  quaint  Carlyle  says : 
"  Evermore,  up  the  east  comes  the  grey  brindled  dawn  ;  on 
dewy  branch,  birds,  here  and  there,  with  short,  deep  warble 
salute  the  coming  day.  Stars  fade  out  and  galaxies,  street 
lamps  of  the  city  of  God.  The  universe,  O,  my  brothers, 
is  opening  wide  its  portals  for  the  levee  of  the  Great  High 
King." 

A  few  light  clouds,  attenuated  into  mistiness,  are  swept 
from  the  blue  heaven  by  the  wings  of  the  purple  dawn : 
"The  rain  is  over  and  gone:"  Gleaming  up  through  the 
tree  tops  shines  the  blue  glimmer  of  the  rolling  Aar.  The 
voice  of  the  waters  sings  the  matin  hymn.  The  fog  banks 


ON    TO    INTEKLAKEN.  227 

that  linger  about  the  mountain  only  make  the  sunshine 
fairer  ;  as  brightest  through  the  gloom  of  our  sorrows,  shines 
the  smile  of  our  pardoning  Father. 

So  soon  as  he  can  procure  and  swallow  a  cup  of  coffee, 
he  starts  forth,  passes  through  the  village,  and  crossing  the 
river  by  the  wooden  bridge,  climbs  a  young  Alp  that  stands 
behind  the  hotel,  and  which  calls  itself,  I  reckon,  the 
Harder. 

It  is  rather  a  wearisome  ascent,  if  you  have  not  got  your 
mountain  legs  on  yet ;  but  they  have  put  wooden  stairs 
there  to  help  you,  and  there  are  benches  to  rest  on,  and 
roadside  springs  to  taste,  (if  you  like  that  liquid,)  and  con- 
venient precipices  for  the  English  to  fall  from,  a  privilege 
which  they  avail  themselves  of,  at  the  rate  of  about  eighteen 
per  season. 

You  stop  to  look  at  the  pretty  mosses,  at  the  green- 
burnished  beetle,  and  the  well-housed  snail ;  you  nod  to  the 
fat,  little,  rattle-pated  sparrows  who  hop  all  around  you, 
crying  whecp,  peep  ;  and  at  last  you  sit  down  upon  that 
rock  there  at  the  summit,  knock  a  large  brown  spider  off 
your  knee,  wipe  your  spectacles  if  you  wear  any,  blow  your 
nose,  and  so  look  at  the  landscape. 

You  see  the  river,  the  music  of  whose  rushing  soars  up, 
there  to  you,  rolling  tumultuously  down  to  Unterseen,  over 
whose  needle-case  tower  and  quaint  gables  is  visible  the 
Lake  of  Thun,  sparkling  at  the  foot  of  St.  Beatsberg  and  of 
the  Niesen. 


228  I'YNNSHURST. 

Through  the  rich  meadows,  where  red  roofs  mingle  with 
the  clustering  leaves,  windeth  the  gleaming  river.  Beneath 
you,  the  white  and  many-windowed  houses  of  Interlachen. 
Before  you,  over  the  sweet  lawn,  a  wild  valley  darts  off  into 
the  mountains,  and  at  the  end  the  white-robed  Jungfrau 
lifts  her  peaks  on  high,  crowned  with  the  glistening  snow, 
and  veils  her  virgin  bosom  in  the  clouds.  A  little  to  the 
right  frowns  Schreckhorn,  and  Stockhorn  bounds  the  view 
from  the  other  bank  of  Lake  Thun.  At  the  foot  of  Stock- 
horn  sleeps  a  hill  of  cedars. 

When  Hugh  gets  back,  he  finds  Kipps  in  full  voyage 
rig,  and  they  get  ready  for  departure.  Each  has  an  alpen- 
stock,- a  white  pine  staff,  some  six  or  seven  feet  long,  iron- 
spiked  at  the  end.  On  it  is  burned  the  name  of  Interlachen. 
Large,  stout  shoes,  studded  with  nails,  cover  the  feet,  a 
linen  blouse  the  shoulders,  a  little  flask  of  Jcirchenwasser 
swings  under  the  left  arm,  a  pipe  and  tobacco  pouch  under 
the  right.  White  felt  hats,  with  a  flower  in  the  band, 
protect  their  "  knowledge  boxes."  Thus  admired  and 
admiring,  they  go  out  to  look  for  a  guide. 

"  Do  you  know  the  scenery  ?"  says  Kipps  to  a  short,  nice- 
looking  man. 

"  Oh  yes,  Monsieur,  I  was  born  there." 

Whereupon  Kipps  rushes  at  Pynnshurst  and  insists  upon 
instantly  engaging  the  individual. 

"  Is  he  a  good  one  ?"  asked  Hugh. 

"  Good !  why  he  was  born  there  !" 


ON    TO    INTERLAKEN.  229 

"  Born  where,  Gus  ?" 

Gus  looked  thoughtful.  "  By  Jove,"  said  he,  "  I  forgot 
to  ask  him.  But  off  there  in  the  scenery,  I  suppose." 

On  examination  the  birth-place  was  found  to  be  Grindel- 
wald.  It  was  a  child  of  the  great  Glacier  who  was  to  guide 
them.  A  child  of  forty  summers,  short,  stout,  slow  of 
speech,  rather  worsted  by  small  pox.  He  was  to  carry  the 
plaids  and  the  knapsacks,  and  to  lead  the  tourists. 

So  eleven  o'clock  strikes  in  the  Salle  a  manger,  and  our 
pair  pay  their  bill  and  depart  from  Interlachen. 

Over  a  piece  of  prairie  land,  studded  with  daisies,  and 
quivering  with  white  and  yellow  butterflies,  into  the  Lauter- 
brunnenthal,  the  vale  of  Lauterbrunnen,  and  along  the 
edge  of  the  Lutzschin,  a  fierce  torrent. 

That  huge  square  tower  that  frowns  there  to  the  right,  is 
the  castle  of  Unspunnen,  where  Byron  placed  his  Manfred  ; 
that  superb  creation,  who  dwelt  there  in  the  stronghold : 

and  with  him 

The  sole  companion  of  his  wanderings 
And  watchings — her,  whom  of  all  earthly  things 
That  lived,  the  only  thing  he  seemed  to  love— 
The  lady  Astarte. 

Yet  the  tower  has  its  own  true  tradition,  less  gloriously 
beautiful  than  that  given  it  by  the  poet,  but  illustrative 
enough  of  the  wild  times.  Thus  runs  then  the  true  story 
of— 


III. 

MANFRED'S    CASTLE. 

THE  Barons  of  Unspunnen  were  the  most  puissant  lords 
who  lived  among  the  Alps.  They  ruled  from  the  Grimsel 
to  the  Gemmi ;  the  Grindelwald,  the  Lauterbrunnen,  and 
many  another  peak  and  valley. 

Burkhard,  last  of  his  race,  had  declared  against  the 
claims  of  Burgundy ;  and  consequently  against  Burgundy's 
lieutenant,  Berchthold  V.  last  duke  of  Zaeringhen  ;  and  the 
latter,  worried  by  his  foeman,  built  first  the  strong  chateau 
of  Thun,  and  then  his  own  strong  city,  (Berne)  six  leagues 
further  down  the  Aar. 

Now  Baron  Burkhard's  only  child,  the  lady  Ida  of  Un- 
spunnen, was  all  that  can  be  imagined  of  embodied  love- 
liness and  excellence;  and  Rodolph,  Count  of  Woeden- 
schwyll,  bravest  of  stout  duke  Berchthold's  warriors,  saw, 
loved,  and  went  half  crazy  for  her. 


MANFRED'S  CASTLE.  231 

He  demanded  her  of  her  father.  The  old  baron  offered 
him  a  halter  instead ;  so,  Kodolph,  waiting  till  the  foray 
called  away  the  old  eagle,  climbed  to  the  eyrie,  seized  upon 
the  beauteous  Ida,  bore  her  triumphantly  to  Berne  and  mar- 
ried her  there. 

But  if  Burkhard  were  fierce  against  Burgundy  before, 
this  set  him  entirely  mad ;  and  many,  many  a  year,  the 
waves  of  Thun  and  of  the  rushing  Aar  were  stained  with 
blood  because  of  it. 

By  and  by,  years  began  to  weigh  upon  the  stout  old 
baron,  and  gentle  thoughts  stole  o'er  him  in  the  evening 
when  he  sate  so  lonely  in  his  desolate  hall.  The  face  of 
his  daughter  looked  on  him  through  the  mist  of  his 
tears. 

Berchthold  was  generous  as  brave ;  and  when  the  stories 
of  his  foeman's  sadness  were  bruited  at  his  court,  he  took 
with  him  three  squires  and  a  page,  started  for  Unspunnen, 
and  entering  unannounced  into  the  hall  of  the  castle,  he 
placed  in  the  old  man's  arms  the  child  of  the  unforgotten 
Ida. 

The  old  lord  melted ;  a  truce  was  sworn ;  and  the  young 
Walter  was  proclaimed  Baron  of  Unspunnen. 

"  This  day,"  cried  the  grandfather,  "  shall  be  celebrated 
among  us  forever." 

And  up  to  this  time,  once  in  three  years,  the  peasants 
have  celebrated  pastoral  gymnastic  games  in  honor  of  that 
reconciliation.  They  show  you  there,  .1  mass  of  rock, 


PTNI 


232  PTNNSHURST. 

weighing  two  hundred  pounds,  which  in  1 808  was  thrown 
by  a  sturdy  peasant  of  Apenzell,  ten  feet. 

A  little  further  up  the  valley  is  the  tower  of  Rotherflue, 
whose  master  slew  his  brother.  Then  the  Swiss  Cain, 
"  went  forth,  a  fugitive,"  among  the  mountains  and  perished 
miserablv. 


IV. 

ST AUBB A  0  H. 

THE  road  winds  always  along  the  edge  of  the  torrent, 
crossing  light  wooden  bridges,  skirting  the  mountain  foot,  or 
seeking  the  midst  of  the  vale.  Every  few  yards  you  have 
a  whirlpool  or  a  little  fall ;  a  mass  of  huge  black  stones  that 
strive  in  vain  to  bar  the  water's  way,  or  a  flat  space  where 
the  floods  widen  into  a  little  placid  lakelet. 

At  last  they  got  to  Zweilutschinnen  (the  two  torrents) 
where  two  streams,  called  the  black  and  the  white,  branch 
off,  one  running  through  the  valley  of  the  Grindelwald,  the 
other  through  Lauterbrunnen.  It  is  this  last  which  Hugh 
followed,  and  it  led  through  indescribable  glories  ;  between 
those  two  mighty  walls  of  living  rock,  so  perpendicular,  so 
high,  hewn  by  the  hand  of  God,  and  crested  at  His  word 
with  sombre  pines,  sighing  to  Alpine  winds. 


234  PYNXSHURST. 

"Nothing  but  water  springs?  (that  is  the  meaning  of  the 
German  word  Lauterbrunneri),  is  well  said  of  this  exquisite 
valley.  Twenty  or  more  cascades  leap  from  the  heights 
above,  and  serve  to  feed  the  Lutzschin.  In  front,  as  one 
goes  on,  stands  ever,  as  the  barrier  of  the  vale,  the  brilliant 
Breithoru,  wearing  his  glacier  shield  on  his  strong  heart 
and  lifting  his  proud,  chivalric  head  there,  the  champion  of 
the  Jungfrau  at  his  side. 

Lawns  thick  with  chalets  whose  roof-eaves  descend  nearly 
to  the  ground ;  flocks  of  white  goats  upon  the  mountain 
side;  the  musical  tinkle  of  the  leader's  bell,  the  distant 
echoes  of  the  Alpine  horn,  and  the  all-present,  everlasting 
hills  filled  Pynnshurst's  heart  with  poetry. 

'"Above  me,"  so  his  soul  spake  to  him  in  Childe 
Harold's  words : 

"  Above  me  are  the  Alps, 
The  palaces  of  nature,  whose  vast  walls 
Have  pinnacled  in  clouds  their  snowy  scalps, 
And  throned  eternity  in  icy  halls 
Of  cold  sublimity,  where  foams  and  falls 
The  avalanche,  the  thunderbolt  of  snow. 
All  that  expands  the  spirit  yet  appals 
Gather  around  these  summits,  as  to  show 
How  earth  may  pierce  to  Heaven,  yet  leave  vain  man  below  w 

So  in  a  little  while  they  get  to  the  very  bad  hotel  of  tha 
'  Capricorne,  and  after  half  an  hour's  repose,  they  start  to 


STAUBBACII.  235 

look  at  the  illustrious  Staubbach  (dust  fait).  Just  out  of 
the  door,  three  small  girls  attack  them  with  hands  full  of 
minerals ;  ten  yards  further  on,  a  small  boy  lifts  some  dirty 
rags  that  curtain  a  box,  and  show  the  delighted  "  Tourists 
in  Switzerland,"  a  kid  with  two  heads  and  a  badly  stuffed 
hawk ;  again  ten  yards,  and  there  is  a  stall  of  wood 
carvings,  where  Hugh  buys  an  ibex,  and  both  leave  their 
staves  to  be  tipped  with  chamois  horns  and  branded  with 
the  name  of  Staubbach.  Then  on  till  the  wind  wafts  in 
their  faces  the  water  dust  of  the  cataract.  Nine  hundred 
feet  it  falls,  rushing  in  foam  from  the  brink  at  first,  to  widen 
into  exquisite  lace-work,  and  so  to  break  up  into  watery 
powder,  which  the  wind  tosses  as  it  will. 

The  most  amazing  thing,  after  its  height,  is  to  see  a 
waterfall  swayed  hither  and  thither  by  the  wind.  No  idea 
of  it  seemed  to  Hugh  Pynnshurst  so  just  as  Byron's. 

"  The  sunbow's  rays  still  arch 
The  torrent  with  the  many  hues  of  heaven, 
And  roll  the  sheeted  silver's  waving  column 
O'er  the  crags  headlong  perpendicular ; 
And  flingeth  lines  of  waving  light  along 
And  to  and  fro.  like  the  pale  courser's  tail, 
The  giant  steed  to  be  bestrode  by  death. 
As  told  in  the  Apocalypse." 

But  Kipps  said,  "  It  was  very  pretty,"  and  "  that  he 
guessed  it  was  dinner  time,  and  besides  the  spray  was  ruin- 
ing his  trousers." 


236  PrNNSHURST. 

Dinner  over,  Hugh  mounts  to  his  room.  The  roars  of 
the  Staubbach  and  the  Lutzschin  mingle ;  the  balm  of  the 
evening  air  comes  through  the  open  window  and  disposes 
him  to  quiet.  Also,  his  legs  ache.  So  he  lies  down  upon 
the  sofa  on  his  back,  and  sees  what  he  sees. 

To  his  left  is  the  wall  of  the  valley;  behind  it,  with 
higher,  wilder  peaks,  the  chain  of  the  Wenghern  Alp.  At 
the  end  there,  snow-clad  and  cloudy,  with  fair  white  patches 
silvering  in  the  sun,  the  crests  of  Jungfrau.  The  wall  at 
his  right  there,  crested  with  pines,  bears  on  its  top,  Miirren, 
the  loftiest  village  in  Europe.  Over  the  tree  tops  yonder, 
looking  out  from  between  those  walls,  Breithorn,  all  silver, 
shows  in  the  distance.  He  takes  one  good  look,  and  goes 
to  bed  ;  for  to  morrow  he  has  to  cross  the  Wenghern  Alp, 
twelve  miles  to  mount,  as  many  to  descend  ;  no  joke  to  the 
unmountainous  man. 

Sleep  calmly,  Hugh  Pynnshurst ;  happier  so  than  awake. 
Enjoy  again  thy  childhood,  rocked  in  the  cradle  of  dreams. 
God  guards  the  sleeper  here  as  elsewhere.  The  footsteps 
of  His  Angels  fear  not  to  tread  among  His  Alps. 


V. 

DlE     JuNOFRAtJ. 

NOTHING  could  be  fairer,  lovelier,  than  the  glorious  morning 
which  greeted  our  awakening  voyagers.  The  sun  poured 
down  his  light  upon  the  beautiful  valley ;  the  shepherd  boys 
were  driving  their  goats  to  the  mountains,  and  the  merry  kids 
bounded  round  their  dams.  The  Lutzschin  brawled  on  its 
way  ;  the  early  rainbow  spanned  the  cataract,  and  the  guide 
opening  the  door  brought  in  Pyunshurst's  shoes,  and  told 
him  they  must  start  in  an  hour. 

The  coffee  swallowed,  the  havanna  lighted  and  inserted 
in  that  natural  porte-cigar,  formed  by  the  lengthening  of 
the  eye-tooth,  they  set  out  stoutly  on  the  road,  chanting  as 
they  walk. 

Just  before  they  started,  a  voice  behind  them  said; 
"  Nous  aurons  eln  pon  ckour,  Messieurs? 


238  PYNNSHURST. 

Hugh  turned  to  look  upon  one  of  those  open,  hoiuwt 
German  faces,  which  are  the  very  type  of  good-hearted- 
ness. 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  "  everything  promises  well." 

"  I  am  glad  of  it,"  said  the  German,  in  his  curious  French, 
"  for  I  told  my  wife ;  said  I,  '  My  dear,  you  go  round  by 
the  valley  in  the  car,  and  I  will  go  to  take  a  look  at  the 
Staubbach ;' "  here  he  consulted  his  guide,  book,  "  '  nine 
hundred  feet  fall ;  and  to-morrow  I  will  cross  the  Wenghern 
Alp,  five  thousand,  three  hundred  and  forty  feet  (guide 
book  again),  and  meet  you,  my  dear,  at  Grindclwald  to- 
morrow night.'  And  if  it  had  rained  this  morning,  you 
know,  gentlemen,  that  I  could  not  have  done  it." 

"  So  you  cross  this  morning,"  said  Hugh. 

"  Yes." 

"  Have  you  a  guide  T 

"  No,  I  am  all  alone  ;  and  have  no  baggage,  for  I  told 
my  wife,  '  My  dear,  go  round  by  the  valley,  and  I- will  cross 
the  Wenghern,  and  meet  you  to-morrow  at  Grindelwald.'  " 

"  You  had  better  accompany  us,"  said  Hugh  ;  "  it  will 
give  us  great  pleasure." 

The  honest  face  lighted  up  immediately,  as  its  owner 
accepted  the  invitation  with  a  thousand  thanks. 

So  they  started :  past  the  cataract ;  down  by  the  little 
church  across  the  river  to  the  foot  of  the  ascent,  and  then  it 
began. 

For  an  hour  all  went  well,  though  very  difficultly.     The 


PIE    JUXGFRAU.  239 

steep  and  winding  pathway,  full  of  marshy  spots,  and  springs, 
leading  over  crumbling  rocks  and  through  thick  junipers, 
was  soon  found  rather  long. 

"  Bless  me,  guide,  is  it  all  like  this  2" 

"  Oh,  my  knees  and  calves  !" 

"  Ach !  dis  do  make  warm  a  man." 

Such  exclamations  began  to  be  common ;  but  at  last  they 
had  achieved  the  severest  climbing ;  a  pasture  land  of 
gentler  ascent  rolled  its  chalet  and  herd-spotted  surface  be- 
fore them  ;  the  village,  named  from  the  mountain,  showed 
itself  in  the  distance,  and  by  common  consent,  they  sat 
down,  took  a  sup  of  kirsck,  lighted  a  pipe  and  reposed. 

The  valley  below  was  too  fair  to  describe  ;  they  saw  all 
along  its  course  to  the  white  houses  of  Unterseen  and  Inter- 
lachen,  in  the  distance  ;  right  opposite,  and  on  the  same 
level,  they  had  Staubbach,  below  them  the  church  and  the 
hotel,  which  looked  in  the  distance  like  the  carved  houses 
they  had  bought  at  Thun. 

All  round  there  the  large  mountain  violet,  sometimes  as 
big  as  a  silver  dollar,  and  on  the  milder  rocks  the  Alpine 
rose,  beautiful  nursling  of  the  snows,  green  and  crimson 
crest-plume  of  the  kingly  hills.  It  loves  the  brink  of  preci- 
pices, where  it  waves  in  the  cold  air. 

And  those  gentians  of  so  superb  a  blue,  atoms  of  a  sum- 
mer sky.  And  the  many  colored  mosses  and  flowering 
lichens ;  and  buttercups,  ten  times  the  size  of  their  sisters 
of  low  meadow  lands  ;  and  the  purple  thistle  and  the  golden 


240  PYNNSIIURST. 

heath,  stud  the  thin  soil,  and  prove  that  God  loves  the 
mountains. 

But  the  pipe  is  finished,  and  they  climb  again.  Now 
and  then,  a  black-corsaged  woman,  or  a  milk-laden  peasant 
passes  them ;  yonder  they  are  mowing,  and  the  sweet  smell 
of  the  hay  regales  their  expanded  proboscis.  Every  half 
hour  they  meet  a  group  of  voyagers  going  in  the  opposite 
direction ;  the  men  with  staff  in  hand,  sometimes  with  sack 
on  shoulder,  the  ladies  on  a  mountain  pony,  or  carried  by 
sturdy  mountaineers  in  an  arm-chair. 

And  now  they  are  amid  the  snows ;  and  the  grass  and 
flowers  peep  dimly  from  the  half  melted  little  masses,  and 
the  sun  is  high  in  heaven,  and  at  last  they  rest  there  at  the 
inn  upon  the  summit,  in  the  face  of  the  immortal  and 
colossal  Jungfrau. 

O  God  beneficent !  how  very  grand  Thy  hills  !  robed  in 
those  glistening  snows  that  never  melt,  that  ice  forever  firm ; 
clad  with  the  glacier  as  with  a  coat  of  mail.  Shattered,  as 
if  by  thousand  thunderbolts,  and  the  tumultuous  heavings 
of  unnumbered  earthquakes.  But  grander,  statelier,  more 
beautiful  in  ruin,  than  aught  else  in  harmonious  preserva- 
tion. 

'  Over  her  broad  heart,  girdled  by  the  frost,  in  huge  and 
gracious  folds,  clings  the  white  garment  of  the  Queen  of 
Hills. 

At    her    broad    base,    there    yawns    the    awful    gulf 
called    in    the    solemn    German    tonorue    the     Vale    of 


UIK    jrNOFUAU.  241 

Wrecks,  where  never  human  foot  may  tread,  nor  human 
voice  be  heard,  nor  the  mellow  bleating  of  the  flocks,  nor 
smoke  of  clustering  cottages  arise  to  tell  of  human  life. 
There  falls  the  shivered  avalanche ;  there  the  huge  rock- 
mass,  riven  from  its  base,  rolls  thundering  to  its  rest ; 
there  stream  the  waters  from  the  glacier,  there  fall  the 
drifting  snows. 

On  high,  twelve  thousand  feet  above  you,  soar  the 
untrodden  peaks ;  the  silver  horns  imperishably  pure,  lift- 
ing their  pure  cones  in  the  glance  of  day,  glow  white  for 
evermore.  Their  snows,  continually  drifting,  prevent  the 
slightest  spot  or  shadow,  and  form  a  misty  but  transparent 
veil  about  the  ivory  bosom. 

Hush  !  is  it  muttering  thunder  that  you  hear  from  the 
hollows  of  the  mountain  ?  No  !  it  is  the  awakening  of  the 
avalanche  ! 

Yonder  the  cloud  of  snow-dust  rises ;  and  there,  along 
the  ridge,  stream,  like  a  river,  the  powdered  particles. 

Then  an  enormous  mass  heaves  quivering  there  on  high. 
Slowly  it  rends  itself  away,  gathers  the  loose  snow  on  the 
crag  ;  seizes  and  crushes  into  dust  the  pinnacles  of  ice,  grasps 
the  strong  granite  masses  in  its  hands,  and  lifting  up  its 
voice  on  high,  a  voice  of  many  thunders,  hurtles  down. 

And  the  awed  heart  grows  still,  and  the  dilated  eye 

follows   its   awful   course ;    and  the  trees   quiver  on  the 

ravine's  edge,  and  the  deep  echoes  sound  amid  the  chasms, 

and  the  avalanche  plunges  down  into  the  gulf,  and  the 

11 


242  PYNNSIIURST. 

snow  cloud  rises  in  the  air,  like  the  sands  of  the  desert 
when  the  simoom  blows,  and  the  chilling,  solemn  echo  of  its 
fall  comes  up  from  the  deeps  below. 

Then  all  is  silence,  but  that  silence  is  the  voice  of 
God! 

All  round,  the  mountains  lift  their  mighty  fronts  ;  the 
cloud-cowled  Monk,  the  large  and  smaller  Higher,  and 
Wetterhorn,  the  thunder  peak.  And  Hugh  feels  that 
if  any  land  should  be  without  human  rulers,  it  it  this  land, 
sung  by  Jens  Baggesen,  in  his  Alpenlied  : 

Where  never  sceptre,  never  crown, 

O'er  earth  their  glories  fling": 
Where  God  alone,  sits  on  the  throne, 

And  God  alone  is  King 


VI. 

JUNGFKAUANA. 

HUGH  mounted  a  huge  hill  which  is  the  summit  of  the 
Wenghern  Alp  ;  and  enjoyed  from  thence  a  more  extended 
view. 

Some  dozen  parties  of  travellers  were  at  or  near  the  little 
inn ;  and  the  tinkle  of  the  horses'  bells  sounded  musically. 
Now  and  then,  in  the  distance,  you  heard  the  crack  of  the 
chamois  hunter's  carabine,  and  the  notes  of  the  long,  bark 
Alpine  horn. 

Kipps  had  ordered  a  chamois  steak  and  some  baked  pota- 
toes ;  and  when  the  first  sound  gave  warning  of  the 
avalanche  and  everybody  rushed  forth  to  watch  its  fall, 
Augustus  followed  them  ;  but  when  the  mighty  mass  was 
half  way  down,  and  at  its  grandest  moment,  he  said, 

"  Well !  I  fancy  that  my  steak  must  be  ready,"  and  re- 
turned into  the  inn. 


244  PVNNSIIURST. 

The  government  of  Berne  had  offered  some  considerable 
reward  for  mounting  to  the  summit  of  the  Jungfrau. 

Well,  one  day,  the  Herr  Professor  B arrived, 

accompanied  by  three  guides  ;  full  of  spirit,  life,  and  deter- 
mination. They  slept  at  the  inn,  and  started  the  next 
morning  on  their  perilous  journey.  Stoutly  climbed  the 
Herr  Professor  all  the  first  day,  and  he  couched  in  the 
snow  beneath  a  shelving  ledge,  brimfull  of  science  and  of 
hope. 

But  cold  was  his  waking  in  the  morning ;  the  air  of  the 
peak  chilled  him ;  his  kirsch  bottle  was  empty ;  he  labored 
till  eleven  o'clock,  and  then  he  yielded. 

"  Guides,"  said  the  Herr  Professor,  in  a  melancholy  voice, 
"  I  give  it  up ;  let  us  go  down  again." 

And  down  they  went ;  and  at  the  inn,  the  guides  re- 
quested their  pay. 

"  My  friends,"  said  the  Herr  Professor,  "  I  expected  to 
gain  the  reward ;  but  I  have  failed,  and  alas,  I  have  no 
money." 

"  But,  Mein  Herr,  that  is  not  our  fault,  we  were  willing  to 
go  with  you." 

"  That  is  very  true,  my  friend." 

"  And  we  must  be  paid  for  our  trouble,  you  know." 

"  That  is  very  just,"  said  the  scientific  man,  "  but  I  have 
nothing  to  pay  you  with." 

"  You  should  have  thought  of  that  before  you  started. 


.IUNGFUAUANA.  245 

We  cannot  lose  our  time  and  toil ;  we  are  poor  men  and 
have  families  to  support." 

"  It  is  mournful,  I  acknowledge,"  said  the  Herr  Professor, 
"  but  what  will  you  have  ?  I've  got  no  money." 

"  But  it  is  infamous  !"  said  the  first  guide. 

"  It  is  a  cheat !"  said  the  second. 

"  He  is  a  scoundrel  !"  cried  the  third,  knitting  his  brows. 

"  It  is  a  shame  !"  muttered  the  voyagers,  grouped  about 
the  learned  man. 

"  Your  bill,"  said  the  publican,  "  is  nineteen  francs, 
twenty-five  centimes. 

"  My  case,"  said  the  Herr  Professor,  "  is  a  peculiar  one. 
You,  my  good  landlord,  are  justly  entitled  to  your  bill ;  and 
your  claims,  my  dear  friends,"  to  the  guides,  "  are  undeni- 
ably just ;  but  alas,  I  have  no  money.  Here  !" 

And  he  gave  his  watch  and  chain  to  the  guides. 

"  Here  !"  and  he  gave  his  signet  ring  to  the  Innkeeper. 

"  Gentlemen,  good  evening  !"  so  saluted  he  the  travellers. 

Then  took  he  his  Alpine  staff,  and  his  knapsack,  and  went 
mournfully  on  his  road  to  Berne. 

The  possessors  of  the  watch  and  the  signet  ring  looked  at 
their  newly  acquired  possessions,  and  at  each  other ;  the 
travellers  laughed  ;  a  small  dog  upon  the  portico  scratched 
his  ear  and  looked  wisely,  but  said  nothing. 

"  But,  I  say,"  cried  one  of  the  guides,  "  that  fellow  has  at 
least  let  us  know  that  a  reward  is  offered  for  mounting  the 
Jungfrau ;  let  us  gain  it  ourselves." 


246  PYNNSHURST. 

The  advice  was  thought  good,  the  party  was  made,  and 
they  accomplished  the  feat  and  received  the  money.  They 
put  an  iron  stake  upon  the  summit,  which  stood  there  a 
year  or  two  and  was  then  stormed  down. 

Since  then,  six  peasants  from  the  Grindelwald,  and  in 
1841,  Agassiz,  and  Professor  Forbes  of  Edinburgh,  accom- 
plished the  ascent ;  passing  the  glacier  of  the  Oberaar,  that 
of  the  Viesch,  the  lake  of  Moril,  and  the  glacier  of  the  Al- 
etsch.  The  height  of  the  mountain  is  13,780  feet. 

I  would  describe  the  view  from  the  summit,  were  it  not 
for  three  reasons.  1st — There  are  descriptions  of  views 
enough  in  this  work.  2d — The  clouds  below  you  generally 
impede  an  extended  prospect ;  and  3d — I  have  never  seen  it. 
It  is  true  that  if  the  last  reason  had  presented  itself  sooner 
to  my  mind,  it  might  have  sufficed  without  the  other  two. 

For  the  descent,  our  wanderer,  Augustus,  and  the  German, 
joined  themselves  to  two  Frenchmen,  and  went  upon  their 
way.  One  of  the  Frenchmen  asked  Kipps  how  he  liked 
the  Staubbach  ? 

"  I  did  not  think  it  at  all  like  the  one  on  my  salad-spoon," 
was  the  answer. 


vn. 

DOWN   THE   MOUNTAIN. 

AFTER  a  few  minutes'  walk,  they  came  to  a  steep  descent, 
some  three  hundred  feet  in  depth  and  lined  by  a  fallen 
avalanche  ;  three  of  the  voyagers  seated  themselves  on-  the 
brink,  lifted  their  feet,  and  shot  swift  as  an  arrow  to  the 
bottom. 

But  this  did  not  satisfy  the  elder  Gaul ;  he  chose 
mother  spot,  steeper  and  fresher  in  appearance,  started,  and 
came  down  like  a  thunderbolt.  Four-fifths  of  his  descent 
accomplished,  he  saw  before  him  a  piece  of  bare  earth  some 
ten  feefc  in  diameter,  and  tried  to  stop  himself;  the  motion 
jerked  him  up  into  the  air;  heels  over  head  he  flew,  in  a 
most  miraculous  somerset,  landed  upon  the  snow  on  the 
other  side,  dashed  along  his  way  and  brought  up,  to  his 
astonishment  and  disgust,  in  a  tranquil  mud  puddle  at  the 
bottom. 


248  PYNNSllUltST. 

They  requested  him  to  do  it  again,  but  he  wouldn't. 

This  is  a  very  rapid  way  of  descending  a  fallen  avalanche ; 
you  save  a  great  deal  of  time ;  you  amuse  yourself  cheaply ; 
you  get  a  species  of  sleigh  ride  ;  but  the  method  is  open  to 
too  slight  objections.  Your  pantaloons  feel  very  uncom- 
fortable, and  in  some  instances  you  break  -your  neck. 
Otherwise,  it  is  very  nice. 

So  laughing,  jesting,  stopping  now  and  then  for  a  view ; 
looking  at  and  relieving  or  refusing  the  beggars — every 
child  and  old  pei-son  begs  here — sliding  down  snow  hills ; 
they  went  on. 

But  the  jests  got  fewer;  grunts  took  their  places,  and 
then  moans.  The  knees,  the  muscles  of  the  legs,  seemed 

bursting,  breaking  at  the  terrible  descent ;  the  feet  slipping 

/ 
forward  in  the  large  shoes  and  throwing  all  the  weight  of  the 

body  upon  the  ends  of  the  toes,  soon  became  covered  with 
blisters.  'Twas  in  vain  that  they  threw  their  stafls  forward 
to  stop  themselves  in  some  headlong  descent,  they  only 
jerked  their  shoulders  out  of  joint. 

Now  did  they  mock  at  horns  and  backs,  glaciers  and 
cataracts,  and  bergs  and  thalt.  Silent  save  for  an  occasional 
moan,  or  a  howl  as  some  loose  stone  rolled  across  the 
fevered  toes.  The  perspiration  poured  from  their  foreheads  ; 
their  hot  hands  stuck  to  their  staves;  they  stumbled  at 
every  other  step ;  until  at  last  in  very  despair  they  began  to 
jest  and  be  merry,  then  struck  up  the  Marseillaise,  aban- 
doned their  legs  to  their  own  wild  will,  and  rolled,  pitched, 


DOWN    TI1K    MOUNTAIN.  249 

stumbled,  fell,  dropped  from  point  to  point,  as  fortune 
decided,  until  they  stopped  at  a  chalet  of  the  Grindelwald 
to  rest  and  to  make  observations. 

Looking  between  Wetterhorn  and  Faulhorn,  the  white 
glaciers  of  Grindelwald,  fringed  with  dark  pines,  swelled 
from  the  clefts  of  the  mountain,  it  seemed  to  the  very  doors 
of  the  houses.  The  village,  with  its  two  hotels  the  Bear 
and  Eagle,  both  mountain  birds,  and  its  houses  scattered 
here  and  there,  glowed  in  the  rays  of  the  descending  sun  ; 
thousands  of  cattle  grazed  along  the  plain ;  old  men  held 
little  cannon  in  odd  corners  and  fi'red  them  to  rouse  the 
echoes,  "  for  a  consideration." 

So  they  rolled  on  their  way,  footsore  and  weary,  to  the 
Eagle,  who  spread  his  sheltering  wings  above  them,  meek 
as  maternal  dove. 

"  Will  you  go  at  once  to  your  rooms,  gentlemen  ?"  asked 
mine  host. 

"  Parbleu  /"  was  the  reply  in  chorus. 

"When  will  you  dine?" 

"  Immediately,  if  you  please." 

As  they  mounted  the  stairs  they  heard  a  cry  of  joy. 
The  good  German,  his  face  all  bubbling  with  delight, 
looked  alternately  out  of  the  door  and  at  his  fellow 
"  Tourists." 

"  Oh !  Messieurs,"  he  said, "  il  est  mon  femme  !  He  is  mine 
wife  /"  And  indeed  a  carriage  drove  up,  he  was  soon 
locked  in  a  tender  conjugal  embrace,  and  so  the  others  went 
11* 


250  PYNNSHURST. 

up  stairs  leaving  the  reunited  rubbing  their  noses  lovingly 
together. 

Oh,  the  delight  of  cold  water  ;  the  delicious  first  shiver 
as  the  hot  face  plunges  into  the  cool  fluid  ;  as  the  dust 
comes  off,  and  the  hands  grow  dry  and  smooth  again. 
And  then  the  luxury  of  an  entire  change  of  raiment, 
and  the  pleasant  feeling  of  the  feet  when  the  guide 
comes  up,  and  rubs  them  all  over  with  a  tallow  candle. 

Tingle,  ingle,  ingle  !  ting  ting  !  ting  ! 

Yes,  yes,  that  is  the  merriest  music  in  the  Alps.  It  is 
Swiss,  my  dear  madam,  for  "  dinner  is  ready." 

As  Hugh  descends  the  stairs,  the  little  Dutchman  catches 
his  arm,  and  presents  him  to  a  tall  damo  robed  with  much 
lace. 

"  Monsieur,"  he  says,  "  he  is  my  wife,  he  shall  speak 
no  French.  II  est  mon  femme,  il  ne  parlera  pas  Fran- 


And  Hugh,  speaking  very  little  German,  bows  silently 
and  the  lady  dips,  folds  both  hands  in  an  owner-like  man- 
ner over  the  arm  of  her  recovered  spouse,  and  carries  him 

in  to  dinner. 
• 
At   dinner   were  seven  ladies  ;  fortunately  French  and 

German,  so  that  one  might  venture  to  talk  to  them  with- 
out being  introduced. 

So  they  gossipped  away  on  the  perils  and  pleasures  of 
voyaging,  the  difficulties  arising  from  the  absence  of  rail- 
roads and  steamboats  in  those  parts  ;  telling  an  occasional 


DOWN    THE    MOUNTAIN.  251 

anecdote  of  some  gentleman  who  had  fallen  from  a  preci- 
pice, or  lady  who  had  perished  in  a  snow  drift. 

Many  bottles  of  a  very  good  small  wine  were  emptied ; 
much  laughing  was  heard,  and  at  last  the  German  wife's 
head  sunk  upon  her  beloved's  shoulder ;  his  broad  kind 
countenance  once  more  bubbled  with  delight,  and  then 
subsided  into  a  sweet  tranquillity  calm  and  still  as  peace. 

Then  out  of  doors  for  the  Havanna  or  pipe,  and 
in  again  for  the  bed  ;  for  to-morrow  one  mounts  grand 
Scheideck. 

Only  one  thing  had  threatened  the  harmony  of  the 
evening.  An  old  gentleman  grew  stormy  about  that  which 
they  called  coffee ;  but  he  grew  pacified  when  Hugh  told 
him  the  rule  for  "  Tourists  in  Switzerland."  "  Lorsque  on 
donne  une  liquide,  telle  que  ce  soit,  noir&tre  et  quelque  soit 
peu  sale,  on  appelle  c,a  du  cafie,  et  on  1'avalo  silencieuse- 
ment  et  on  remercie  le  bon  Diem" 


vm. 

MORE    CLIMBING. 

THE  travellers  have  swallowed  their  coffee ;  they  march 
through  the  village  out  upon  the  road  to  the  Mer  de  Glace, 
the  Ice  Sea. 

What  it  most  resembles  in  the  distance  is  an  enormous 
mass  of  soap-suds.  The  surface  is  somewhat  oxygenized, 
and  somewhat  dirty.  It  pours  through  the  enormous  cleft 
of  the  hills  there,  between  the  Eigher  and  the  Mettenberg, 
and  there  rests. 

Now,  whosoever  has  walked  along  the  Aar,  the  Reuss,  or 
even  the  Lutchen — poet,  or  no  poet — will  say  at  once,  a 
frozen  torrent.  There  is  not  the  slightest  exaggeration  in 
Byron's  figure  ;  there  is  not  even  ever  so  little  liberty  taken 
with  the  resemblance  ;  it  strikes  the  woodenest  imagination 
as  exhibiting. 


MORE    CLIMBING.  253 

"  The  aspect  of  a  tumbling  tempest's  foam 
Frozen  in  a  moment." 

The  surface,  white  and  soap-sudsy,  broken  into  minute 
balls  or  drops,  is  precisely  that  of  the  mountain  waters.  Its 
sudden  swellings  and  depressions  ;  the  irregularity  of  its 
cascades,  rapids,  falls,  short  spaces  of  calm  are  all  exactly 
what  you  find  in  the  Reuss  as  you  go  through  Uri,  or  the 
Aar  as  you  climb  to  Handeck  ;  and  through  the  troubled 
surface  you  look  down  into  the  crystal,  pure  as  an  infant's 
heart,  below. 

I  believe  that  very  imaginative  people,  or  at  least  very 
impassioned  people,  are  never  impressionable ;  I  mean,  not 
quickly  so. 

Pynnshurst  climbed  up  the  glacier,  laughing  and  careless 
enough,  amused  only  at  the  danger,  and  rather  with  the 
sentiments  of  a  school-boy  upon  a  new  sort  of  skating-pond 
than  with  any  very  respectable  feelings. 

But  when  fairly  up  amid  those  still  waves,  when  the 
enormous  extent  of  the  glacier  began  to  make  itself  felt,  and 
he  looked  down  into  crevices  of  cold,  transparent  walls,  three 
hundred  feet  in  depth,  upon  the  blue  waters  that  flowed 
tumultuously  below.  When  he  leaned  his  breast  against 
the  clear  and  brittle  wall  between  him  and  destruction,  and 
saw  death  yonder  on  the  other  side  of  that  transparent  sheet. 
When  the  silence  of  those  waves  crept  gradually  over  him  ; 
those  waters  that  gave  no  sound,  all  wild  and  stormy  as 


254  PVNNSHURST. 

they  were ;  those  mighty  surges,  as  of  the  Atlantic,  voiceless 
and  motionless ;  those  breaking  waves  hanging  suspended, 
and  not  to  fall  and  not  to  flow  forever,  evermore  ;  then  he  was 
impressed  and  awed,  and  began  to  understand  the  glacier, 
and  some  such  fancy  as  this  came  over  him. 

That  there  was  a  time,  in  the  far  long  ago,  when  this 
tremendous  sea,  lashed  into  fury  by  the  olden  winds  Eurus, 
and  Africus,  and  Notus,  flowed  strong  and  terrible  from  its 
abodes  on  high  ;  that  it  shivered  the  mountains  in  its  furious 
way ;  that  it  rove  asunder  those  Alpine  peaks  ;  and  gathered 
there,  to  rush  upon  the  plains  and  valleys,  and  to  whelm 
them  with  eternal  devastation. 

But  that  one  deep  prayer  from  some  good  man's  heart, 
had  flown  before  it  to  the  throne  of  God,  and  that  the  Voice 
which  once  spake  upon  turbulent  Galilee,  had  spoken  here 
amid  the  mountains,  and  said  to  the  stormy  waters,  Peace  ! 
be  still ! 

How  many  leagues  upon  leagues  it  stretched  away  along 
its  granite  bed  there  he  never  inquired;  what  were  its 
scientific  causes  he  never  knew,  nor  cared  about,  but  he 
gathered  some  of  the  glacier  flowers  that  bloom  about  its 
edges,  and  putting  his  impressions  in  a  private  pocket  of  his 
own  heart,  asked  Kipps, 

"  If  it  would  not  be  a  superb  neighborhood  for  an  ice- 
cream saloon." 

The  old  man  who  went  before  them,  cutting  steps  along 
the  slippery  descent,  had  seen  blooming  around  him  a  lovely 


MORE    CLIMBING.  255 

collection  of  twenty-four  babes !  He  beat  the  Patriarch, 
hollow  ;  and  Hugh  could  not  help  thinking  of  Mrs.  Gamp's 
expression  that  "  blessed  is  the  man  as  has  his  quiver  full  of 
sitch." 

As  they  descended,  a  young  Dutchman,  who  was  tra- 
velling alone,  began  to  mount ;  he  got  up  some  ten  yards, 
when  his  foot  slipped,  and  he  fell ;  he  lighted  upon — he 
lighted — that  is,  he  did  not  light  upon  his  head,  but  he  slid 
to  the  bottom  like  a  corduroy  avalanche,  for  of  that  material 
was  his  travelling  suit.  He  got  up,  cast  one  look  of  exces- 
sive astonishment  at  the  glacier,  and  turned  off  and  went 
away  without  saying  a  word. 

He  evidently  fancied  that-  everything  was  en  regie.,  that 
every  "  tourist  in  Switzerland"  did  that ;  but  that  there  was 
no  necessity  for  doing  it  more  than  once.  And  he  was 
right.  To  tumble  from  a  glacier  ;  to  be  blown  up '  in  a 
steamboat ;  to  fall  through  a  hole  when  you  are  skating 
upon  a  river  ;  all  these  are  of  those  little  astonishments,  one 
of  which  generally  satisfies  a  man  for  his  lifetime. 

"  One  finds  dead  chamois  here  sometimes,  Messieurs," 
said  the  guide. 

"  Ah !  how  so  ?  where  do  they  come  from  ?" 

"  Well ;  they  have  either  slipped  from  the  edge  of  some 
precipice,   or  have  been   chased  over  the  brink  by  the 
hunters ;  or  may  be  wounded,  and  so  have  fallen." 
And  have  you  sometimes  hunted  ?" 


256  PYNNSHURST. 

"  Oh,  yes,  most  guides,  at  least  we  Oberlanders,  hunt 
more  or  less." 

"  It  needs  a  steady  head  and  a  sure  foot,  I  fancy,"  said 
one  of  the  Frenchmen. 

"  Oh,  yes,  and  a  clear  eye,  and  stout  shoulders  in  the 
bargain  ;  it  was  last  year  that  I  caught  two  young  ones 
alive  upon  the  Eigher,  there." 

"  Alive !  why  you  must  be  a  famous  hand  at  it.  They 
must  have  been  very  young  ?" 

"  Just  born,"  said  the  guide  ;  "  I  had  watched  the  mother 
for  a  couple  of  weeks,  and  as  soon  as  her  little  ones  saw  the 
light,  I  shot  her  and  caught  them." 

Nobody  was  sportsman  enough  not  to  feel  an  emotion  of 
pain,  as  the  hunter  said,  with  so  much  sang  froid,  "  I  shot 
the  mother  and  caught  them."  The  poor,  loving,  Alpine 
antelope,  that  had  sought  the  wild  heights  of  the  mountains, 
and  there  first  heard  the  bleat  of  her  little  ones,  to  be  killed 
in  the  earliest  moments  of  her  maternal  tenderness.  Yet 
the  guide  was  a  good-hearted  soul,  that  would  not  do  harm 
to  a  fly.  Only  he  fancied  that  chamois  were  made  to  be 
killed. 

There  ought  to  be  some  law  made  for  their  preservation, 
however,  for  the  animal  is  disappearing;  and  they  have 
already  annihilated  the  Ibex,  father  of  all  goats.  His  head 
and  horns  are  rare  even  in  Swiss  museums  at  present.  And 
that  soft-eyed,  graceful  mountain  Antelope  will  soon  follow 
him  to  extinction.  All  along  the  mountains  you  find  the 


MORI;  CLIMBING.  257 

head  and  horns  for  sale.  Now  and  then  you  get  their 
flesh  at  the  table ;  it  is  good  enough,  though  it  does  not 
at  all  equal  the  roe-venison. 

The  ascent  of  the  Grand  Scheideck  is  very  fine,  from  the 
constant  variety  of  views  which  it  presents,  but  immensely 
fatiguing.  It  is  one  of  those  endless  mountains  which  bother 
one  like  a  treadmill ;  one  of  those  succession  affairs,  of  which 
you  fancy  that  you  are  always  on  top,  and  in  which  you 
always  deceive  yourself. 

You  have  continual  steep  ascents  of  three  or  four  hundred 
feet,  up  which  you  drag  your  weary  way,  persuading  your- 
self that  it  is  the  summit.  But  once  past  the  brink,  you  see 
a  little  plain,  from  whose  centre  rises  exactly  such  an  ascent 
as  you  have  just  accomplished.  How  many  there  are  on 
Scheideck  Hugh  never  knew.  Enough,  that  after  enormous 
toil,  with  his  eyes  kept  upon  the  ground,  he  got  over  a  piece 
of  shelving  rock,  by  the  aid  of  some  roots,  and  finding  a  flat 
space,  sat  down  in  despair,  and  announced  to  his  companion 
his  intention  to  climb  no  more. 

"  I  will  finish  my  days  here,"  he  said  calmly,  "  in  peace- 
able contemplation  of  the  Faulhorn  there,  feeding  upon 
butterflies  and  violets,  and  quenching  my  thirst  with  snow- 
balls." 

"  But  we  are  on  top,"  said  the  Guide. 

"  Ah,"  said  the  weary  man,  "  in  that  case,  I  will  take  a 
mouthful  of  Kirschemoasser.  Capitaine,  tell  me  a  story !" 

"  Listen  then,"  said  Capitaine  de  C ,  "Yesterday ;  no, 

9* 


258  PVNNSHURST. 

the  day  before  yesterday,  there  arrived  down  below  there  a 
party  of  three  English  bagmen,  travelling  en  milord.  Being 
very  hungry,  they  wished  to  appease  their  cravings  with 
some  pastry.  So  the  leader  drew  a  dictionary  from  his 
pocket  and  demanded, 

"  '  Un  confesseur  /' 

" '  Certainly,  gentlemen,'  said  the  waiter, '  if  you  will  follow 
me,  I  will  lead  you  to  one.' " 

"  They  went  to  the  other  end  of  the  village ;  entered  a 
plain  neat  little  house  ;  and  were  requested  to  sit  down  in 
the  parlor  for  a  moment 

"  '  Good  style  this,  rather  !'  said  Jenkins, '  it  is  better  than 
eating  in  a  shop.' 

"'  I  wish  they  would  make  haste,'  said  Timkins,  'for  I 
am  cruel  hungry.' 

"  '  I  hear  a  foot,'  said  Slimkins, '  I  suspect  it's  him} 

"  Then  the  door  was  opened,  and  a  kind-faced  old  man  in 
cassock,  surplice  and  stole,  came  in. 

" '  Good  morning,  gentlemen !'  he  said.  '  Let  me  con- 
gratulate you  and  myself  upon  your  arrival.  It  is  very 
seldom  that  travellers  give  their  first  thoughts  to  their  re- 
ligious duties,  and  you  must  be  pious  and  excellent 
young  men.  They  may  still  call  your  country  the  '  Isle  of 
Saints,'  if  there  be  many  like  you  who  remain  there.  The 
waiter  has  informed  me  of  your  desire  to  confess ;  if  one  of 
you  will  come  with  me,  I  will  show  him  to  the  confessional ; 


MORE    CLIMBING.  259 

the  other  two  can  pray  in  the  church  until  their  turn 
comes.' 

"  The  trio  were  thunderstruck.  Open-eyed  and  mouthed 
they  gazed  upon  the  old  pastor,  and  at  last  their  amaze- 
ment found  vent  in  the  national  exclamation — 

" '  Damn  !' 

" '  Did  you  ever  ?'  said  Jenkins. 

"  '  No,  I  never,'  said  Timkins. 

"  '  Aint  it  a  curious  go  ?' "  murmured  Simkins,  interroga- 
tively. 

"  At  last  Jenkins  recovered. 

"  '  I  don't  want  to  confess  /'  he  roared,  '  I  aint  a  papist. 
I  want  a  confesseur  pour  manger,  pas  un  confesseur,  pour 
confesser.  Bonbons  !  you  know.  Cakes  !  Pies !  patisseries  f 

"  '  Ah,'  said  the  good  Cure,  '  I  think  I  understand.  It 
is  not  a  confesseur  that  Monsieur  is  in  want  of;  it  is  a  con- 
fiseur  /' 

" '  Oui !  Oui !  Oui  /'  squeaked  the  trio,  like  three  little 
pigs,  lost  in  Broadway. 

"  '  Allow  me  then  to  take  off  my  surplice  and  I  will  show 
you  the  way,'  and  the  smiling  Cure  disrobed,  took  his  hat' 
and  guided  the  hungry  voyagers  to  the  pastry-cook." 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Hugh,  "  that  narrative  has  refreshed 
me  considerably.  I  think  that  I  can  go  on  now.  But  tell 
me,  guide,  is  it  always  the  Wetterhorn  here  at  our  right  ?" 

"  Always,  Monsieur." 

"  Well,  it  is  a  very  respectable  mountain  ;  en  avant  /" 


260  PYXNSHUKST. 

So  forward  they  go.  A  few  hundred  steps  bring  them 
to  an  uncommonly  dirty  little  auberge  ;  where  ham,  cheese, 
small  wine  and  roast  potatoes  await  their  appetites.  The 
only  house  upon  the  summit  was  burned  down,  and  travel- 
lers are  received  in  a  temporary  shantee  opposite  the  ruins. 

Once  rested  and  refreshed,  they  begin  the  descent 
courageously,  and  finish  very  painfully  in  sight  of  the  Au- 
berge of  Eosenlaui. 


rx. 

ROSENLAUI. 

IT  needed  all  the  persuasive  power  of  the  guides  to  induce 
them  to  mount  for  half  an  hour  up  to  the  Glacier.  But  it 
was  the  most  beautiful  in  Switzerland ;  so  they  decided  to 
go.  They  cross  the  Reichenbach,  on  a  bridge  composed  of 
two  pine  trees.  How  many  hundred  feet  below  the  torrent 
rolls,  I  cannot  say.  I  only  know  that  when  the  idiot  who  lies 
in  wait  there  for  your  batzen,  has  pushed  the  huge  stones  over 
the  brink,  you  get  weary  of  watching  them,  before  the 
dull  faint  splash  comes  up  through  the  granite  sides,  to  tell 
you  that  the  rock  has  reached  the  torrent. 

And  this, — that  the  roar  which  deafens  you  when  you 
stand  beside  it  down  below,  is  here,  upon  the  bridge,  directly 
over  it,  as  low  and  faint  as  the  ripple  of  the  gentlest  rill 
that  sings  o'er  white  pebbles  in  the  Carolina  pinewoods. 


262  PTNXSHURST. 

But  the  glacier  is  worth  the  trouble,  because  of  the  purity 
of  its  ice,  and  the  beauty  of  its  caverns.  The  principal 
thing  is  an  immense  hole  into  which  you  enter.  The  guide 
cuts  steps,  and  you  descend  some  seven  or  eight  feet,  to  a 
sort  of  natural  balcony. 

You  are  then  in  the  glacier,  surrounded  by  the  ice  ;  blue 
as  the  summer  skies,  and  clear  as  a  cairngorm.  You  lean 
over  a  transparent  parapet,  some  thirty  inches  thick,  and  see 
below  you,  hundreds  of  yards,  the  swift  rushing  Reichen- 
bach.  The  guide  stands  behind  you  with  his  hand  above 
your  collar ;  for,  the  fall  of  an  avalanche,  a  rift  in  the  ice- 
mass  ;  and  your  frail  balcony  crumbles  beneath  your  feet ; 
and  down  through  the  wild  profound,  spinning  about  like  a 
feather  in  the  wind,  dashing  out  brains  and  life  against  the 
crags  of  ice,  you  fall  in  pieces. 

Last  year,  a  German  student  fell  from  the  height  into  this 
very  Reichenbach.  They  collected,  there  below,  thirty-two 
morsels  of  his  shattered  body. 

They  rest  two  hours  at  the  inn.  Then  pass  along  the 
torrent,  through  forests,  and  mid  fallen  rocks,  ever  between 
vast  heights,  by  a  gentle  and  pleasant  descent,  carpeted  with 
verdure  and  with  flowers,  to  the  head  of  the  longest,  most 
abominable,  most  break-neck,  joint-severing,  dislocating, 
foot-wearing,  frame-destroying  stair-case,  that  man  and 
nature  ever  made  together. 

When  it  was  passed,  Kipps  began  to  speak  of  it ;  but 


ROSENLAUI.  2G3 

was  warned,  if  he  valued  Hugh's  friendship,  to  obliterate  all 
traces  of  it  from  his  memory. 

As  for  the  Captain,  he  declared  that  he  would  publicly 
insult  and  provoke  to  a  duel,  anybody  who  ever  hereafter 
should  put  him  in  mind  of  it. 

A  little  further  and  they  hear  the  sound  of  falling  water. 
It  is  where  the  Reichenbach  bounds  from  the  mountain  to 
the  valley  of  Hassli.  The  cascades  are  exceedingly  beautiful. 
A  very  large  body  of  water  pours  from  the  rocky  banks, 
covered  with  luxuriant  vegetation,  and  falls  into  the  basin 
below  with  that  solemn  continuous  roar  which  helps  to 
make  the  majesty  of  cataracts :  then  a  few  feet  of  level  flow, 
again  a  plunge,  and  finally  a  third ;  and  then  the  turbulent 
floods  roll  swiftly  on  to  mix  their  waters  with  the  rushing 
Aar.  It  is  certainly  the  most  beautiful  thing  that  our 
wanderer  has  seen.  The  green  clustering  leaves,  with  flower- 
ing vines  trembling  at  the  voice,  but  rejoicing  in  the  cool 
spray  of  the  fall :  the  mass  of  foam  below :  the  dreamy  sound, 
as  of  a  distant  thunder,  not  broken  into  peals,  but  uttering 
its  voice  forevermore :  the  gracious  rainbow,  spanning  the 
sheet ;  the  Alps  above,  below  the  beauteous  valley,  divided 
by  the  Aar,  spotted  with  pleasant  villages, 

"And  fields  that  promise  corn  and  wine," 
All  these  compose  a  landscape  which  is  pleasant  to  look 
upon. 

Winding  down  the  side  of  the  hill,  they  reach  the  valley, 
and  march,  joyous  in  level  roads,  to  the  brink  of  the  river. 


264  PYNNSHURST. 

Here  a  small  skiff  receives  them,  which  is  taken  over  with- 
out sails,  oars  or  steam-power.  A  cable  crosses  the  stream  ; 
along  the  cable  glides  a  noose,  which  noose  is  attached  to  a 
rope  whose  other  end  is  fastened  to  the  boat ;  and  the  force 
of  the  current  makes  her  pass  from  shore  to  shore ;  a  sort 
of  rudder  keeping  her  side  somewhat  to  the  current. 

In  half  an  hour  they  have  marched  through  half  of  Mey- 
ringen  and  are  at  the  Hotel,  where  a  most  preposterous  and 
unheard  of  imitation  of  a  chimpanzee  scowls  portentously 
from  the  facade  and  is  pleased  to  be  known  as  the 
"  Savage." 

Received,  lodged,  and  bathed,  as  they  have  yet  an  hour 
to  wait  till  dinner,  they  go  out  to  look  at  the  village,  town, 
burgh,  or  whatever  it  may  be. 

It  is  a  very  curious,  old-carved-wooden-house-filled  sort  of 
affair.  The  roofs  have  enormous  eaves  ;  balconies  surround 
each  story ;  the  windows  are  in  lattice  work ;  each  house 
weai-s  its  date  cut  in  front ;  some  have  odd,  pious,  or  moral 
sentences. 

From  the  hill  on  the  other  side  there,  they  see  the  Alpbach 
pouring  frothily.  It  is  a  stream  which  is  good  enough  to 
overflow  the  vale  from  time  to  time.  Some  hundred  years 
ago,  for  instance,  it  came  rolling  over  the  village,  upsetting- 
smaller  houses,  and  filling  the  church  ten  feet  deep  with 
mud.  A  black  line  painted  round  the  walls  attests  the  fact 
to  the  interested  and  inquiring  "Tourist  in  Switzerland." 

A  wood-cutter  tempts  you  in  the  Salle  a  manyer,  with  all 


ROSENLAUI.  265 

sorts  of  costly  nonsense ;  but  some,  it  must  be  acknowledged, 
of  exceedingly  delicate  execution.  It  is  the  employment  of 
balf  Oberland  to  cut  up,  in  winter,  their  forests  in  chalets, 
work-boxes,  tables,  and  so  forth,  for  the  consumption  of 
travellers  in  the  summer. 

It  is  an  ingenious  people,  is  the  people  of  Berne. 

In  the  first  place,  they  are  guides,  innkeepers,  alpenstock- 
branders,  cutters  of  steps  in  the  glaciers,  horse  and  mule 
owners,  and  chair-porters,  who  are  necessary  to  show  the 
scenery,  and  to  drain  your  pockets.  Then  you  have  the 
wood-carvel's,  the  laudscapers,  and  the  costume  painters  ;  the 
chamois  hunters  with  skins  and  horns,  and  the  goatherds, 
who  imitate  the  antelope  horn  with  the  produce  of  their 
herds,  all  to  tempt  you  further. 

These  employments  occupy  father  and  elder  brother. 
Then  the  grandfather  has  a  small  cannon  which  he  fires  off 
in  the  neighborhood  of  an  echo.  The  mother  and  aunt 
rush  to  the  cottage  door,  and  sing  and  play  on  a  quaint 
mountain  harp.  The  second  son  is  blowing  an  Alpine  horn 
up  on  the  peak  there.  The  third  son  holds  a  tamed  chamois 
in  a  rope  by  the  way-side.  The  eldest  sister  keeps  a  small 
shop  of  varieties.  The  eight,  nine,  and  ten  year  olds  sell 
you  minerals,  bunches  of  cherries,  and  nosegays  of  wild 
flowers  ;  and  the  younger  ones  who  cannot  be  deluded  into 
any  idea  of  labor,  simply  hold  out  their  hands  as  you  pass 
and  trot  after  you  screaming  out  bdtzen  ! 

It  is  an  ingenious  people,  is  the  people  of  Berne. 
12 


X. 

THE   HOSPICE. 

COFFEE,  and  the  petit  verre  having  been  duly  discussed ; 
salad  spoons,  wooden  chamois,  etc.,  having  been  purchased ; 
the  bill  paid,  the  coat  packed  away,  the  blouse  put  on,  and 
the  newly  branded  staff  well  grasped,  our  travellers  set  off 
from  Meyringen  to  mount  most  painfully  to  Handeck ; 
to  follow  by  a  wild  and  picturesque  forest-route  the  course 
of  the  Aar. 

A  mere  path,  gradually  winding  along  the  precipitous 
sides  of  the  mountain,  conducts  them  to  the  awful  spot, 
where  the  above  named  river  and  the  Erlenbach,  pour,  face 
to  face,  their  full  floods  from  the  granite  ledge  ;  mingle 
their  foaming  waters  ere  they  reach  the  bottom,  and  then 
two  hundred  feet  below  the  quivering  bridge  of  pine,  sweep 
onsvard  to  the  Rhine. 


THE    HOSPICE.  267 

Here  is  the  second  scene  in  Pynnshurst's  memory.  First, 
is  the  Jungfrau,  God's  majestic  mountain,  motionless,  silent, 
save  for  the  fall  and  roar  of  avalanches.  Next  is  this  double 
cataract.  Precipitous  granite  walls,  how  high,  I  know  not, 
a  thousand  feet,  perhaps,  on  each  side  of  the  dreadful  chasm. 
On  one  hand,  there  is  no  footing  even  for  a  bird  ;  on  the 
other  is  the  goat  path,  which  he  had  followed,  three,  five 
feet  wide,  perhaps.  Above,  the  trees  rustle  on  the 
brink ;  beneath,  speeds  the  white  river.  Face  to  face  meet 
the  two  swollen  torrents,  the  untamed  children  of  the  hills ; 
divided  only  by  ten  or  twelve  feet  of  rock  ;  so  there  they 
fall  in  thunder  and  in  foam. 

Words  are  good  for  nothing  here.  No  poet  can  describe ; 
but  a  simple  or  a  loving  heart  can  feel  the  presence  of  the 
King  of  Kings;  can  see  His  power  in  the  bound  of  the 
waters,  can  hear  His  voice  in  their  commingling  roar.  The 
best  thing  you  can  do  when  you  visit  this  place,  is  to  be 
silent,  and  to  say  in  your  heart  "  Our  Father." 

They  leave  it,  and  go  up  to  the  inn,  the  last  human  habi- 
tation between  this  and  the  summit.  Thence  they  mount, 
and  pursue  their  way  through  gloomy  fir  woods  ;  once  across 
the  bed  of  an  ancient  glacier,  a  granite  bed,  so  polished  by 
the  ice  that  one  slight  deviation  from  the  rude  stepping 
places  hewn  in  the  mountain,  will  send  you  to  destruction  ; 
many  times  over  the  Aar  on  bridges  without  parapet.  Then 
the  forest  ceases,  and  lichens  and  rhododendrons  alone  are 
seen.  Still  higher  and  even  these  have  disappeared,  they 


268 

marched  on  the  sterile  stone ;  and  soon  they  enter  the  regions 
of  eternal  snow,  and  see  eight  thousand  feet  above  the  ocean's 
level,  the  gloomy  walls  and  narrow  windows  of  the  Hospice 
of  the  Grimsel. 

The  setting  sun  shed  his  last  rose  light  on  the  scene ;  near 
to  the  house,  were  one  or  two  broken  naked  peaks ;  to  the 
left  was  a  dull  lake,  half  liquid,  half  frozen.  All  else  was 
white.  In  front  rose  the  road  to  the  summit  still  a  good 
thousand  feet,  and  there  were  no  sounds  here,  but  the 
whistle  of  the  marmot,  and  the  voice  of  the  sweeping 
wind. 

An  ancient  hospice,  built  and  kept,  by  the  monks  of  old, 
on  the  Alpine  height  here  far  above  the  clouds,  to  be  a 
refuge  for  the  weary  voyager  ;  a  salvation  for  the  lost  amid 
the  snows. 

Hugh,  after  dinner,  gcew  very  sad  up  among  the  snows 
there,  and  went  early  to  bed,  after  taking  another  look  at 
the  ibex  head  nailed  over  the  front  door. 

'Twas,  as  I  have  already  said,  an  ancient  hospice  where 
he  lay,  'mid  fields  of  endless  snow,  too  high  for  the  sound 
of  the  sighing  woods,  or  the  mountain-torrents  flow. 

But  the  monks  were  gone  from  the  ancient  cells ;  the 
chapel  walls  were  bare  ;  the  laugh  of  joyous  revelry  arose 
from  the  place  of  prayer,  the  rugged  halls  where  holy  love 
embraced  the  poor  of  old,  were  kept  by  the  modern  merci- 
ful, whose  best  reward  is  gold ;  and  when  the  solemn  hours 


THE    HOSPICE.  269 

advanced  and  the  sinking  moon  grew  dim,  the  silence  was 
unbroken  by  the  midnight  chant  or  hymn. 

And  sleepless  lay  the  wanderer,  beneath  those  voiceless 
skies,  and  mournfully  the  silence  filled  his  soul  with  memo- 
ries. Over  his  meditative  soul  with  gliding  step  and  slow, 
passed  in  a  long  procession  the  mournful  long  ago.  The 
joyous  rose  light  of  his  youth  passed  like  a  driving  cloud  • 
the  folds  of  one  white  bridal  robe  changed  to  a  sable  shroud. 
Beside  his  father's  ruined  porch  he  saw  a  guardian  stand — 
a  silent  angel  with  a  torch  inverted  in  his  hand. 

He  felt  the  pang  of  pride  that  breaks,  but  cannot  learn  to 
bend ;  the  icy  mists  rose  silently  between  him  and  his 
friend ;  religious  hate  attacked  him  next  ;  his  creed  was 
reckoned  sin ;  the  tender  ties  of  heart  were  cut  that  bound 
him  to  his  kin ;  the  last  things  which  had  loved  him  well, 
were  now  beneath  the  clay  ;  his  heart  was  bare,  and  lone, 
and  cold,  as  the  cell  wherein  he  lay  ;  and  ever  over  those 
arid  lands  the  mountain  blast  was  wild,  as  his  faded  face 
sank  in  his  hands  and  he  wept  like  a  stricken  child. 

But  he  thought  of  the  holy  time  gone  by,  when  the  well 
of  love  was  deep ;  when  the  holy  cross  flashed  far  and  nigh 
from  the  glacier's  icy  steep.  When  the  toiling  brethren 
built  their  home,  on  the  mountain  where  he  trod,  to  battle 
gainst  the  avalanche,  brave  warriors  of  God. 

They  came  from  the  valleys  of  the  South,  where  the 
birds  ne'er  cease  to  spring,  where  the  soul  of  beauty  lives 
fore'er,  lulled  in  the  lap  of  Spring,  where  all  is  fair,  and 


270  I'VXNSUCHST. 

warm,  and  bright.  They  had  issued  boldly  forth,  to 
hear  the  sign  of  the  crucified  to  the  rocks  of  the  frozen 
North. 

Over  the  solemn  Alpine  cliffs  their  chants  of  glory  rang ; 
the  psalms  of  Judah's  palmy  fields,  'mid  the  crags  of  ice 
they  sang,  they  drew  the  dying  from  the  snow,  the  wanderer 
from  the  wold,  they  brought  the  chilled  and  erring  lamb 
back  to  the  only  fold  ;  there  was  nothing  that  they  had  not 
left  and  counted  but  as  dross,  to  make  that  bleak  and  sterile 
peak  an  hospice  of  the  cross. 

And  a  shame  came  o'er  him  that  he  sank  so  prone 
beneath  his  pain ;  he  felt,  what  man  had  borne  before  that 
man  could  bear  again ;  and  he  knew  that  God  who  lives 
beyond  the  shadow  of  the  grave,  when  he  said  to  him,  "  Be 
ever  sad,"  said  too,  "  Be  ever  brave !" 

All  that  remains  of  the  hospice,  is  a  box  for' alms,  stuck 
against  the  wall  of  the  dining  room.  A  father  and  four 
daughters  keep  the  inn,  in  the  summer,  but  go  down  to  the 
valley  when  the  cold  season  approaches.  As  a  kind  of 
memory  of  old  time,  a  servant  and  some  dogs  pass  the 
winter  there,  to  watch  for  chance  travellers. 

The  worthy  man  was  astonished  some  years  ago,  by 
the  visit  of  an  uninvited  avalanche  which  smashed  the  roof 
in,  and  frightened  the  guardian  down  to  Meyringen. 

In  the  morning  our  pilgrims,  wanderers,  or  "  Tourists  in 
Switzerland,"  meet  in  the  Salle  a  manger,  and  delectate 
their  reposed  stomachs  with  a  matutinal  refreshment ;  then 


THE    HOSPICE. 


271 


the  Alpenstocks  receive  the  name  of  Grirasel,  the  appro- 
priate needle-box  or  other  wood  cut  is  purchased,  and  they 
follow  the  guide  over  the  eternal  snows  up  to  the  summit. 

It  was  here,  you  know,  that  the  Austrians  had  posted 
some  troops  in  the  campaign  of  1799.  Lecourbe,  the 
French  general,  had  tried  in  vain  to  dislodge  them  ;  when 
a  peasant,  rejoicing  in  the  sweet  name  of  Noegeli,  offered  to 
lead  the  republicans,  by  a  path  known  only  to  him,  to  the 
rear  of  the  Austrian  position.  But  his  condition  was,  that 
they  should  give  him  a  mountain  to  be  traversed  in  the 
passage  ;  Point  d*  Argent,  Point  de  Suisse. 

The  bargain  struck ;  the  general  Gudin  led  his  troops 
across  the  Doltihorn  and  the  glaciers  of  Ghclman,  fell  upon 
the  Austrians  and  exterminated  them.  That  sullen  lake  to 
the  right  there  was  choked  with  corpses ;  they  still  call  it 
the  Lake  of  the  Dead. 

Stand  up  upon  the  summit,  look  at  the  mountains  round 
you !  Snow  fields  and  crags  of  ice ;  and  naked  granke 
peaks  ;  at  sombre  pine  woods  fringing  rough  hill  sides,  and 
bleak,  cold  plains,  unclad  with  any  verdure.  You  have 
done  with  Berne,  Hugh  Pynnshurst ;  turn  your  back,  and 
tumble  down  five  miles  to  light  upon  the  Glacier  of  the 
Rhone,  in  the  Canton  of  Valais. 

It  cannot  be  said  of  the  Wanderer,  that  he  descended,  nor 
that  he  went  down  ;  tumbled  is  the  word  !  I  stick  to  it.  I 
will  go  to  the  stake  sooner  than  give  it  up  or  exchange  it 
for  nnv  other  word  whatsoever. 


XL 

THE   BIRTH    OF    THE    RHONE. 

AT  the  door  of  the  little  shantee  there,  stands  the  hostess 
in  square  cap,  of  purple  ribbon  and  black  lace  ;  across  the 
rustic  bridge  move  white  and  black  goats  on  their  way  to 
the  pastures  on  the  hill.  And  those  two  mountains  far  off 
yonder,  shining  mid  the  skies,  tall  sentinels  on  the  border 
land,  Cheville  in  Vallais,  Anzeidaz  in  Berne,  touch  each 
other ;  and,  between  them,  nurse  a  fountain,  which  gives 
birth  to  two  small  rivers,  the  Avengon  and  the  Lyzerne. 

On  the  24th  of  September,  1714,  reports  like  those  of 
heavy  cannon  began  to  sound  from  the  summit  of  Cheville, 
and  continued  with  violence  for  twenty-four  hours.  After 
this,  a  thick  smoke  broke  forth,  followed  by  a  jet  of  flame, 
and  the  enormous  mountain  burst!  The  fragments,  fine  as 
gravel,  were  cast  for  more  than  forty  miles. 


THE    BIRTH    OF    THE    RHONE.  273 

Fourteen  human  beings,  all  buildings  and  all  cattle,  the 
latter  very  numerous,  were  whelmed  beneath  the  mightier 
fragments  and  buried,  either  living  or  else  crushed  to  atoms. 
The  course  of  the  Lyz^rne  was  stopped  and  its  bed  became 
dry  as  ashes.  It  was  supposed  that  a  sulphur  mine  had 
take  fire  within  the  heart  of  the  mountain. 

Among  the  number  of  Vajaisians  who  disappeared,  was  a 
man  of  the  village  of  Auen,  much  missed,  because  much 
beloved.  All  whom  he  left  behind  him  became  the  charge 
of  the  township,  and  wife  and  children  regretted  him,  in 
praying,  at  the  service  instituted  for  the  repose  of  his  soul  in 
the  parish  church. 

On  Christmas  Eve,  he  entered  the  door  of  his  house,  pale 
and  emaciated,  his  hair  wild  and  unkempt,  his  body  nearly 
naked ;  and  as  he  came  in  by  the  door,  wife  and  children, 
after  one  glance,  made  their  escape  at  the  window,  leaving 
him  in  peaceable  possession.  Somewhat  astonished  at  so 
unloving  a  reception,  and  remembering  that  "  nought  is  so 
unkind  as  kindred,"  he  resolved  to  try  strangers ;  but  the 
villagers  fled  from  his  presence  ;  and  then,  as  he  stood  alone 
hi  astonishment,  they  came  back  fortified  by  the  Cure. 

He  went  at  once  to  the  poor  fellow,  gave  him  both  bread 
and  wine ;  next  took  him  to  the  church,  where  they  re- 
turned thanks  for  his  deliverance,  and  finally  adjourned  to 
the  parsonage,  where  they  made  him  tell  his  story. 

"  I  was  at  the  foot  of  the  mountain,  father,"  he  said,  "  in 
a  crevice  quite  narrow  enough,  cutting  the  wild  grass  for 
12* 


274 

ray  cow,  when  suddenly  I  heard  a  sound  as  if  the  world  had 
broken  up,  and  looking  upwards,  I  saw  a  mountain  falling 
on  me.  I  crouched  upon  the  floor  of  the  crevice,  and  the 
mountain  fell.  Then  I  knew,  father,  that  I  was  buried 
alive. 

"  So  I  went  down  on  my  knees,  and  prayed  God  for 
grace  to  die  like  a  good  Christian,  and  made  my  confession 
there  to  him  and  craved  his  pardon.  But  I  also  prayed 
that  he  would  help  me  to  escape ;  though  I  said  also  '  Thy 
will  be  done.1 

"  After  that  I  had  no  fear,  but  set  myself  to  work  as 
heartily  as  I  could.  3  could  see  nothing,  but  there  was  air 
enough,  and  I  heard  a  trickling  of  water.  God  had  sent  a 
little  stream  through  the  crevice ;  I  groped  about  to  find 
the  rock,  that  I  might  lean  my  hands  against  it  while  I 
drank,  and  the  first  thing  I  touched  was  my  sack.  It  was 
full  of  cheeses,  for  I  was  going  to  the  market  when  I  noticed 
the  wild  grass  in  the  chasm. 

"  So  I  worked  and  prayed,  living  on  the  cheese  ;  sleeping 
on  the  earth  when  fatigued,  and  working  with  my  staff  and 
long  knife  while  I  was  awake.  I  knew  no  difference  of  days 
and  nights.  It  was  all  night  with  me. 

"  How  long  I  was  theio  I  know  not,  but  when  my  last 
cheese  was  eaten,  my  staff  passed  through  a  mass  of  earth 
as  I  was  working,  and  when  I  withdrew  it  I  saw  the  light. 
Gradually  I  enlarged  the  hole ;  passed  through  it,  and  am 
here. 


THE    BIKTH    OF   THE    RHONE.  275 

"  '  De  profundis  clamavi  ad  Te  Doming  said  the  Cure, 
'  et  audivistis  vocein  meant.  Out  of  the  deep  have  I  called 
unto  Thee,  Oh  Lord !  and  Thou  hast  heard  my  voice.'  " 

And  now  having  told  you  that  story,  let  ine  go  in  and 
devour  goat's  milk  cheese  and  cold  something  which  the 
hostess  calls  ham,  drink  the  abominable  wine,  miscalled  of 
Astie — it  should  be  "  nasty  " — and  look  out  of  the  windows 
upon  the  mighty  glacier  there. 

Don't  be  alarmed,  I  am  not  going  to  describe  it;  but 
just  look  at  that  huge  crystal  cavern,  giving  out  those 
mighty  floods  of  water.  It  is  the  Rhone,  that  leaps  from 
the  deep  heart  of  the  glacier  ;  it  is  the  Rhone,  whose  wild 
waves  sweep  here  at  your  feet ;  child  of  Valaisian  Alps,  it 
goes  its  way  along  the  bases  of  the  Penine  hills,  sweeps 
through  Geneva's  lake,  waters  the  sunny  lands  of  Dauphiny, 
laves  the  rich  soil  of  Languedoc  and  Provence,  Mother  of 
Song,  to  give  its  treasures  at  last  to  the  broad  Mediterranean. 

"  Flow  on,  exulting  and  abounding  river ; 
Making  thy  waves  a  blessing  as  they  flow 
Through  banks  whose  beauty  would  endure  forever, 
Could  man  but  leave  thy  bright  creation  so." 

It  is  Childe  Harold  who  says  that,  though  he  says  it  of 
the  Rhine. 

"Start,  start!"  cries  the  guide;  "you  must  walk  well  to 
cross  the  Furca  Pass  and  get  to  old  St.  Gothard's  feet  by 
sunset" 


276  i-vx. \SIIUKST. 

So  away  they  go  along  the  glacier's  edge,  and  climb  a 
hill  that  is  decidedly  unequalled  for  difficulty.  The  "  hill 
difficulty  "  in  John  Bunyan's  dream  is  a  lawn  to  this  affair. 
It  is  "  right  straight  up  !"  and  the  road  seems  to  take  plea- 
sure in  putting  you  as  near  the  edge  of  the  precipice  as 
possible.  In  one  place  near  the  summit,  Hugh  walked  for 
some  minutes  on  a  path  eight  inches  wide,  muddy  and 
shelving,  with  a  rough  rock  to  his  right,  and  fresh  air  for 
two  hundred  feet  below  him  to  his  left. 

The  top  is  about  one  foot  wide ;  you  can  straddle  it  if 
you  will,  and  the  boundary  cross  there  tells  you  that  you 
have  one  leg  in  Catholic  Valais  and  the  other  in  Catholic 
Uri — the  conscience  of  Switzerland.  Hugh  sat  so,  reposing 
himself  and  looking  at  the  landscape,  with  a  piece  of  bread 
and  cheese  in  one  hand,  and  a  flask  of  Kirchenwasser  in  the 
other. 

As  the  situation  is  an  interesting  and  romantic  one,  we 
will  let  him  stay  there  till  the  next  book. 


BOOK    V. 


FOREST    CANTONS 


"  loh  wandlo  durch  cln  Land  so  froh. 
Ach  ich  vergess'  es  nimmer." 


SICK  HEADAC  HK. 

IT  was  at  Hospenthal  that  Hugh  slept  as  you  already 
know. 

All  the  day  long,  he  had  not  been  overly  well ;  the 
journey  had  been  toilsome,  the  sun  very  hot.  A  very  bad 
dinner  gave  him  an  indigestion,  and  from  the  indigestion 
had  come  a  headache.  He  had  hoped  that  it  would  pass 
away,  but  it  only  got  worse  ;  and  the  more  he  tried  to  chase 
it  away,  the  more  it  would  not  move  one  step. 

A  sick  headache.    Do  you  know  what  that  is  ? 

Yes !  What !  You !  my  stout  fellow  ?  Yes ;  you  have 
a  headache  when  you  butt  your  great  stupid  noddle  against 
a  doorpost,  or  a  lamppost,  or  a  mantelpiece,  or  the  head  of 
your  neighbor.  You  have  headache  when  you  have  been 
tipsy  all  night,  and  get  up  feverish,  and  with  a  violent  lovo 


280  PYNNSHURST. 

for  cold  water  in  the  morning  ;  when  your  teeth  are  covered 
with  tartar,  and  your  eyes  sting;  and  your  round  foolish 
nose  is  all  red  and  bulbous  in  its  general  effect ;  and  you 
fall  against  your  wash-hand-stand  as  you  rise,  and  find  your 
legs  very  shaky  and  unsolid. 

Then  I  grant  that  you  feel  more  stupid  than  usual,  and 
that  you  have  a  pain  across  your  forehead,  or  the  top  of your 
thick  cranium,  or  in  the  back  there  by  the  bump  of  philo- 
progenitiveness  ;  but  bless  your  dull  soul !  that's  not  a  head- 
ache. 

You,  my  dear  child ! 

After  dancing  all  night ;  after  eating  so  many,  many 
creams  and  pickled  oysters  ;  after  standing  in  the  conserva- 
tory there,  smelling  tube  roses  and  listening  to  the  soft 
whispers  of  your  own,  own  Jinkins  ;  after  having  screwed  up 
that  precious  little  waist  till  it  looked  like  your  own  wrist  ; 
after  rolling,  opening,  closing,  raising,  sinking,  those  soft  ex- 
pressive eyes  ;  and  finally  sitting  up  half  an  hour  after  your 
return,  to  meditate  his  last  words  as  he  shawled  you  in  the 
entry ;  you  have  drooping  eyelids ;  and  those  clustering 
tresses  feel  very  heavy,  and  a  dull,  thick  dizziness  hangs  like 
a  mist  over  the  light  brain. 

You  are  sensitive  to  the  least  noise ;  and  you  perceive  that 
the  oysters  and  creams  do  not  coalesce;  and  there  is  a 
singing,  or  ringing,  or  humming,  or  buzzing,  in  those  ears, 
delicate  and  rose-tinted  like  a  conch-shell ;  and  you  feel  very 
much  like  laying  that  pretty  head  upon  mama's  kind  bosom, 


SICK    HEADACHE.  281 

while  her  gentle  hands  bathe  the  forehead  with  cologne,  and 
press  between  velvet  palms,  the  throbbing  temples  with 
maternal  gentleness — but,  my  dear  infant,  that  is  not  a 
headache. 

But  you  see  there,  on  that  steamboat,  the  tall  man,  with 
the  dark  complexion  and  fiery  black  eye  ;  with  a  slight  but 
iron  wrinkle  straight  between  his  brows.  His  black  hair 
curls ;  his  lips  are  pressed  together ;  his  thin  small  hands 
are  closed  tightly,  as  he  looks  into  the  deep  water  there.  He 
has  headache. 

And  that  younger  man  there  in  the  library  ;  with  the 
same  hair,  and  eyes,  and  face ;  who  has  his  elbows  on  the 
table,  and  his  forehead  crushing  beneath  the  fierce  gripe  of 
his  nervous  hands ;  the  features  sharpened,  the  skin  livid, 
the  eyes  generally  half  closed  ;  but  opening  wildly  now  and 
then.  He  has  headaches. 

So  had  Pynnshurst. 

His  present  one  commenced  as  follows :  First,  a  dull 
leaden  pain,  seemed  to  settle  down  overall  the  surface  of  his 
brain,  as  a  fowl  upon  her  brood.  Then  quick  detonating 
throbs  beat  heavily  along  his  forehead ;  which  hurt,  yet 
seemed  not  to  be  in  his  head,  but  a  kind  of  echo  from  some 
distant  place. 

Then  a  pang,  vivid  like  lightning,  shot  from  temple  to 
temple  furrowing  through  his  brain ;  then  another  from  the 
eye  to  the  back  of  the  head  ;  then  from  ear  to  ear.  And 
these  came  fast  and  thick,  till  the  brain  boiled  and  seethed 


282  PYNNSHURST. 

as  the  waters  boil  and  seethe  beneath  the  lashings  of  the 
wind  ;  and  the  heavy  weight,  as  of  a  fowl  brooding,  changed 
to  a  condor's  talons,  and  they  tightened  hot  and  fiercely, 
griping  into  the  bubbling  pulp  of  the  brain. 

Then  he  bought  a  pill  of  opium  and  went  to  bed. 

Pale,  hot,  pulseless,  he  lies  there  with  his  head  thrown 
back  upon  the  pillow,  and  moist  motionless  hair,  lying 
heavily  on  his  forehead ;  a  slight  convulsive  closing  and 
opening  of  the  finger  is  the  only  sign  of  life.  You  cannot 
hear  nor  see  him  breathe.  The  eyes  rest  motionless,  half 
closed  ;  you  see  part  of  the  white  and  part  of  the  glazed  black 
orb.  And  evermore  the  griping  pain  continues,  and  tho 
vivid  pangs  shoot  through  the  brain. 

The  opium  cannot  make  him  sleep,  but  it  can  make  him 
dream.  He  does  not  think,  but  notions  arrange  themselves 
and  print  themselves  painfully  upon  the  pia  mater.  Their 
first  form  is  this. 

That  it  would  be  better  for  him  if  he  were  a  polypus, 
drollest  of  rayed  animals,  a  Zoophyte,  from  Z66n,  animal, 
and  phyton,  a  plant ;  because  the  polypus  has  no  head  what- 
ever. He  has  nothing  but  one  stomach  and  a  great  many 
arms ;  and  he  puts  his  food  directly  into  his  stomach  with 
his  arms  ;  neither  chews  it,  nor  swallows  it ;  but  peaceably 
puts  it  there  ;  and  has  no  headache  because  he  has  not  got 
any  head ;  and  no  indigestion,  for  in  four  minutes  he  con- 
verts a  stout  hard-skinned  larva  into  nutritive  chyle,  and  if 
you  turn  him  wrong-side  out  like  the  finger  of  a  glove  when 


SICK    HEADACHE.  283 

it  wants  mending,  he  digests  just  as  well  that  way  as  the 
other. 

Then  the  notions  change. 

O 

His  forehead  begins  to  expand  slowly  but  surely.  For 
years  and  years,  as  he  lies  there,  with  his  upturned,  motion- 
less face,  he  feels  it  growing,  miles,  miles  in  height,  and 
leagues  in  breadth ;  and  the  hair  of  the  head  and  brows 
spring  up  and  branch,  and  the  slight  folds  of  the  skin  be- 
come wild  gorges,  and  ice  and  snow  lie  thickly  there,  and 
freeze  with  horrible  pain  in,  into  his  head.  Then  he  knows 
his  forehead  is  the  Grimsel. 

For  a  long  time  he  felt  the  Austrian  manoeuvres,  but  they 
scarcely  pained  him,  the  cold  was  so  intense  ;  but  soon  he 
was  aware  that  Gudin  had  crossed  Noeggli's  Groettli,  with 
his  fierce  French,  and  was  rushing  down  upon  the  Austrians  ; 
there,  in  the  centre  of  his  forehead,  met  the  armies  ;  and 
the  clash  of  armor,  and  the  roar  of  musketry,  and  wild  shrill 
neighings  of  steeds,  and  shouts  of  warrior  men,  rung  on  his 
thrilling  senses  ;  and  the  quick  wheel  and  tramp  of  heavy 
battalions,  rolled  ever  over  his  forehead ;  and  now  and  then 
an  iron  horse  hoof  broke  through  the  skull  and  came 
crashing  in  upon  the  brain  :  and  the  dead  fell  and  lay  there 
heavily,  growing  cold  upon  him  :  and  the  streams  of  hot 
blood  rolled  sluggishly,  cooled,  stagnated  and  froze  there  5 
and  for  all  he  felt  no  horror.  He  had  but  one  sense  and  that 
was  pain. 

That  passed. 


284  PYNNSHURST. 

And  then  some  awful  power  brought  the  Jungfrau, 
thirteen  thousand  feet  in  height,  and  set  it  on  his  front. 
No  more  shouting  and  pangs  from  the  battling  of  an  army, 
but  an  awful  weight  pressing  even  there,  and  yet  not  crush 
ing  in  the  skull.  No  sound  there,  but  all  cold  and  utterest, 
most  solitary  stillness,  except  when  the  avalanches  would 
burst  from  their  rest  on  high  and  hurtle  down  the  mountain 
side  with  a  roar  of  many  thunders.  He  shuddered  as  he 
felt  them  coming  down,  but  they  broke  and  rested  cold  and 
heavy  there,  without  the  power  to  slay  him. 

At  last. 

He  knew  that  his  brain  was  contracting  to  its  original 
size,  and  that  the  skull  must  contract  to  contain  it ;  and  it 
did  so ;  but  what  it  lost  in  extent  it  gained  in  thickness ; 
and  at  last  it  was  finished,  leagues  upon  leagues  thick. 
There  was  no  more  pain  now.  Only  the  dull  oppressive 
sense  of  that  thickened  envelope. 

It  tortured  him  to  have  his  face  always  turned  upward ; 
but  the  mass  was  too  heavy  to  turn.  But  in  despair  he 
strove  and  heaved  with  shoulders  that  seemed  to  be  of  iron, 
with  neck-sinews  of  steel,  and  at  last  the  mighty  mass 
revolved  upon  its  base  ;  it  turned  and  he  felt  it  crash  down- 
ward upon  its  side. 

And  then  he  slept. 

That,  my  good  fellow  !  That,  my  dear  child,  was  a 
headache ! 

He  often  had  them  like  that ;  and  he  used  to  believe  that 


SICK    HEADACHE.  285 

some  day  he  would  die  quietly  under  one  of  them,  alone,  in 
a  strange  land. 


It  is  a  pleasant  valley  there  at  the  foot  of  St.  Gotthard. 
And  when  he  had  issued  from  the  hotel  or  inn,  which  was  a 
very  bad  one  indeed,  he  went  first  to  the  little  Italian 
Church,  pretty  and  clean,  but  overcharged  with  ornament, 
and  thence  climbed  up  to  the  old  square  tower  on  the 
height  there.  He  saw,  in  the  not  very  fertile  plain,  the 
villages  of  Urseren,  Realp,  and  Ziindorf.  At  Realp,  in  tho 
little  lodge  where  the  good  Capuchins  receive  you  if  you  do 
not  march  onward  to  Hopital, 

His  humble  board  the  holy  man  prepares, 
And  simple  food  and  holy  lore  bestows ; 

Extols  the  treasures  that  his  mountain  bears ; 
And  paints  the  perils  of  impending  snows. 

So  sang  a  Duchess  of  Devonshire  in  1812,  and  so 
repeated  Hugh  Pynnshurst,  when  he  had  unhorsed  himself 
from  where  we  left  him ;  when  he  had  descended  the 
Mountain,  and  stopped  at  Realp  to  taste  Italian  wine  before 
going  on  to  Hopital. 

Above  there,  in  the  rear,  gleam  the  white  peaks  of  conse- 
crated Gotthard  ;  bleak  and  desolate  enough. 


286  PYNNSHUUST. 

No  haunt  of  man  the  weary  traveller  greets, 

No  vegetation  smiles  upon  the  moor, 
Save  where  the  flowret  breathes  uncultured  sweets, 

Save  where  the  patient  monk  receives  the  poor. 

It  is  the  same  Duchess  who  is  responsible  for  that 
quatrain. 

In  1300,  on  those  heights  stood  an  humble  hospice; 
later,  St.  Charles  Borromeo  gave  the  idea,  and  his  kinsman 
Frederick  executed  it,  to  build  a  more  commodious  dwelling 
for  the  brethren  there. 

Thence  stream  the  Reuss,  the  Tessin,  the  Rhone,  and 
Father  Rhine. 

There  passed  Suwarrow  and  the  armies  of  the  French 
Revolution,  the  latter  battering  down  the  Hospice. 

There  is  now  from  hence  to  Altorf,  one  of  the  very  finest 
roads  anywhere  visible ;  but  how  it  turns  and  winds ;  there 
is  no  direction  which  it  does  not  take,  no  manner  of  crook, 
bend,  or  curb,  that  it  does  not  form. 

So  along  that  march  the  travellers,  through  quaint  old 
Andermatt ;  through  the  Hole  of  Uri,  a  tunnel  of  some 
three  hundred  feet  through  the  heart  of  the  mountain. 

Ever  as  they  advanced,  the  valley  deepened :  the  eternal 
hills  grew  higher  on  each  hand,  and  the  boiling  Reuss  fell 
fiercely  on  its  way ;  for  a  stream  that  declines  forty-five 
hundred  feet  between  S.  Gotthard  and  the  lake  of  the  Four 
Cantos,  cannot  be  said  to  flow — it  folk. 


SICK    HEADACHE.  287 

At  last  they  are  at  the  Dcvifs  Bridge,  looking  over  the 
parapet  of  the  new  one  down  upon  the  old.  Both  are 
types  of  their  epochs.  To-day's  bridge  careful,  neat,  in  the 
best  chosen  spot,  close  up  beside  the  cataract,  double  arched, 
Avell  walled,  and  some  twelve  or  fourteen  feet  wide. 

The  old  one  consists  of  a  single  bold  arch,  flung  where 
the  torrent  is  wildest  across  the  foaming  waters.  Scarcely 
can  two  persons  pass  aloug  its  rude  surface,  which  is  un- 
guarded by  any  parapet. 

To-day  is  safer ;  the  past  was  bolder  and  more  pictur- 
esque. You  think  of  the  road-makers  or  the  architect  upon 
the  new.  You  thought  of  God  and  eternity  upon  the  old. 
The  one  in  fair  cut  stone  gleams  in  its  yellow  newness ;  the 
other  moss-clad  and  grey  with  age,  is  rude  as  the  Alps  that 
surmount  it ;  wild  as  the  cataract  which  it  spans. 

"  And  who  pray  built  this  bridge  ?"  asked  Hugh. 

"The  Abbot  Gerald  of  Einsiedlen  in  1118,"  read  one  of 
the  Frenchmen  from  the  guide  book. 

"  Oh,  hang  the  guide  book  information,"  cried  Pynns- 
hurst,  ''  let  us  come  to  facts.  Who  built  the  old  bridge, 
guide  ?" 

"  Well,  they  say  in  the  canton  Uri  here,  that  it  was  built 
by  the  Devil." 

"  Ah,  that  is  something  like.  But  he  don't  make  any- 
thing at  present  except  steam  factories  and  cotton  spinning 
machines ;  he  has  quite  given  up  architecture.  But  tell  us 


288  PTNNSHURST. 

all  about  it.  What  did  he  do  it  for  ?  and  how  much  did 
they  pay  him  !" 

"  Well,  he  did  it  on  bargain,"  said  the  guide,  "  but  the 
Abbot  Gerald  swindled  him." 

"How  so  T 


IL 

A   STORY  OF  THE  DEVIL. 

"  SIR,"  said  the  guide,  "  the  people  all  prayed  the  Abbot 
of  Einsiedlen  who  ruled  all  this  country  then,  to  build  them 
a  bridge ;  and  he  advertised  for  a  builder.  So  they  came 
from  all  over  Switzerland ;  but  when  they  saw  how  the 
Keuss  roared  and  foamed  over  the  rocks,  they  shook  their 
heads  and  went  back  home  again.  Only  two  remained. 

"  One  was  a  tall  handsome  man  in  black,  and  the  other, 
a  poor  young  fellow  very  clever  as  a  millwright,  and  well 
known  in  the  country. 

" '  We  seem  to  be  left  alone  here,'  said  young  Christian, 
for  he  had  the  same  name  that  I  have,  gentleman. 

" '  So  it  appears,'  said  the  tall  gentlemen, '  are  you  an 
architect  ?' 

M  '  I  have  only  built  mill  dams  as  yet,'  replied  the  other, 
13 


290  PYNNSHURST. 

'  but  I  came  to  look  at  this.  But  I  cannot  do  it ;  I  have 
studied  it  for  two  days,  and  can  make  nothing  of  it  ;  and 
now  give  it  up.  If  I  had  gotten  the  reward' — and 
he  stopped  and  sighed,  as  he  thought  of  a  blue-eyed  maiden 
at  home,  who  was  as  poor  as  he  was. 

" '  It  is  left  for  me  then  ?'  said  the  tall  man. 

"  '  Ah,  you  fancy  that  you  can  do  it  ?' 

" '  Oh  yes,  I  am  certain  ;  I  have  done  severer  tasks  than 
that.' 

" '  And  what  plan  have  you,  may  I  ask  ?' 

" '  I  shall  throw  an  arch  simply  across  the  torrent.' 

" '  Indeed,  and  when  will  you  finish  ?' 

"'I  think  I  will  do  it  this  evening,' said  the  tall  man 
carelessly. 

" '  A.h !'  said  Christian,  laughing,  '  Why,  you  must  be 
the  devil  !' 

" '  At  your  service,'  he  answered  politely. 

"  Christian  looked  at  him,  but  saw  nothing  particular  about 
him,  except  that  his  eyes  were  very  brilliant. 

" '  If  you  would  like  the  credit,  I  will  do  the  work  for  you 
for  a  consideration.' 

"  '  And  what  may  that  be,  pray  ?' 

" '  If  you  will  sign  this  contract,  giving  me  your  soul.' 

"  Christian  did  not  exactly  like  that.  A  cold  chill  ran  over 
him ;  and  he  was  just  going  to  begin  his  prayers,  when  a 
young  peasant  girl  passed  along  the  mountain,  singing. 

"  The  poor  young  fellow  thought  of  the  sweet-voiced,  blue- 


A    STORY    OF   THE    DEVIL.  291 

eyed  maiden  at  home ;  thought  too  that  the  other  was  some 
architect  amusing  himself  with  his  country  simplicity,  and 
half  afraid,  half  laughing,  he  signed  the  contract. 

"  The  tall  man  folded  it  and  put  it  in  his  pocket ;  raised 
his  hat  politely,  and  disappeared. 

"  Christian  went  to  the  Cure  below  there,  where  he  passed 
the  night.  He  had  half  forgotten  what  he  had  done,  and 
regarded  the  whole  as  a  joke,  but  in  the  morning  as  he 
walked  out  to  take  a  last  look  at  the  place,  judge  of  his 
horror  when  he  saw  the  bridge  built  and  his  own  name  on 
it  as  architect. 

"  He  flew  to  the  Cure,  where  the  abbot  was  staying,  told 
him  all,  and  besought  his  help. 

" '  We  will  do  what  we  can,'  said  the  Abbot  Gerald, 


"  In  half  an  hour  afterwards  there  came  a  knock  at  the 
door,  and  the  tall  man  in  black  was  there,  when  the  good 
monk  opened  it. 

"  '  Good  morning,'  said  the  former,  '  you  have  a  piece  of 
my  property  here,  they  tell  me,  Abbot.' 

"  Now  Abbot  Gerald  was  no  more  afraid  of  the  devil  than 
a  Swiss  is  of  an  Austrian. 

"  '  Hush,'  said  he  quietly,  '  don't  wake  the  young  man ; 
let  us  talk  the  matter  over.  Come  in.' 


292  PVNNSHURST. 

"The  devil  glanced  into  the  room,  and  saw  nothing 
but  an  old  woman ;  and  in  a  bed  at  the  other  end, 
a  form  which  he  recognized  for  the  young  mill-wright's 
by  the  clothes. 

" '  Take  a  seat,'  said  Abbot  Gerald,  and  pointed  to  a  chair 
beside  the  table. 

"  '  You  are  very  polite,'  said  the  devil,  sitting  down,  '  I 
thank  you  kindly ;'  and  he  noticed  that  there  was  a  chess- 
board on  the  table. 

" '  You  play  then,  Abbot  Gerald,'  said  he. 

" '  A  little,'  said  the  Abbot,  '  but  it  is  not  worth  speaking 
of.  The  chief  matter  is,  that  you  cannot  have  that  young- 
ster.' 

" '  Oho  !'  said  the  devil,  '  we  will  see  about  that.  The 
contract  is  in  perfectly  good  form.' 

"  '  It  is  little  I  care  about  that,'  said  the  abbot,  '  but  the 
scandal  of  the  thing  ;  and  you  know  that  if  I  set  myself  to 
work  you'll  have  a  tough  time  of  it.' 

" '  I  don't  think  that  your  conduct  is  decent,'  said  the 
devil.' 

"  '  Not  decent !  you  scoundrel !'  said  Gerald,  in  a  pas- 
sion.' 

"  '  Well,  there  then,  I  ask  your  pardon,  I  spoke  hastily  ; 
but  be  reasonable  now  :  Come :  I'll  play  you  for  him.' 

"  '  Two  souls  from  my  parishas,'  said  the  Abbot  thought- 
fully, '  it  is  too  much.' 

" '  Two  !     Who  then  «'  cried  Satan. 


A    STORY    OF    THE    DEVIL.  293 

"  Abbot  Gerald  pointed  at  the  old  woman, 

" '  Ah !'  thought  the  other,  '  I  did  not  know  that  I 
had  any  claims  upon  her.  But  I  don't  mind  her 
much,  and  I  always  get  one  game  out  of  two;'  then 
he  added  aloud,  Til  play  you  for  both,  and  that's 
fair.' 

" '  Well,  I  don't  like  to  be  too  hard,'  said  Abbot  Gerald ; 
'  I  agree ;  but  it  is  dry  work  playing  chess.' 

"  He  touched  a  little  bell,  and  a  monk  came  in.  The 
abbot  whispered  to  him ;  he  went  out,  brought  in  a  bottle 
of  wine,  and  disappeared  again. 

"  '  Will  you  try  some  of  this  ?'  said  the  abbot. 

"  '  I  thank  you,'  was  the  answer,  '  I  carry  a  little  bottle 
of  s'pirit  with  me.  Dare  I  offer  a  drop  to  your  lord- 
ship ?' 

"'We  stick  to  our  light  wines  here,'  said  the  abbot 
drily.  '  I  am  getting  too  old  to  change.  Sit  down  here, 
you  sinner,'  said  he  to  the  old  woman,  shoving  her  into  a 
chair  by  the  stove. 

"'It  is  your  first  move,  and  we  play  for  this  ono 
first.' 

"  '  After  you,'  said  the  devil,  politely. 

"  '  By  no  means ;  I  am  at  home,'  said  Abbot  Gerald. 

"  So  the  devil  took  the  move,  and  after  a  pretty  tough 
game,  the  abbot  check-mated  him  completely. 

"'You    are    strong    at    chess,    Abbot    Gerald.      You 


294  PYNNSHURST. 

have   won  that  one   there,'   and  he   pointed   at  the  old 
woman. 

" '  So  you  give  up  all  claim  now  and  forever  ?' 

" '  Oh,  honor  bright ;  would  you  have  me  cheat  you 
after  so  much  politeness !  1  yield  every  inch.  But  now  for 
the  other.' 

" '  I  am  tired,'  said  Abbot  Gerald,  '  I  think  that  I  will 
not  play  any  further.  I'll  give  you  the  other ;  only  take 
him  quietly.' 

" '  You  are  very  courteous,'  said  the  devil,  as  he  walked 
to  the  bed,  and  tapped  on  the  sleeper,  who  breathed 
heavily. 

"  '  Come,  get  up,'  said  the  devil. 

" '  Humph,'  said  the  sleeper. 

"  '  That's  not  the  best  of  good  manners,'  said  the  other, 
'  get  up  when  I  bid  you ! '  and  he  pulled  away  the 
clothes. 

"  The  sleeper  was  a  huge  grey  pig !  with  the  millwright's 
clothes  ranged  about  it ;  and  as  Satan  turned  round,  he 
saw  the  old  woman  strip  off  her  mask  and  cloak,  and  show 
Christian,  pale  enough,  but  smiling. 

"'That's  a  shabby  trick  you  have  played  me,  Abbot 
Gerald,'  said  the  devil,  '  but  I'll  batter  your  bridge  down 
again.' 

"'Try  it,'  said  Abbot  Gerald,  laughing  heartily,  as 
the  other  flew  out,  banging  the  doors  to  in  a  rage. 

"The  devil  got  half  way  to  the  place,  when  he  met 


A    STOKY    OF    THE    DliVIL.  295 

the  procession  returning.  They  had  blessed  the  bridge 
while  the  game  of  chess  lasted,  and  he  had  no  more  power 
over  it. 

"  It  was  so  that  Abbot  Gerald  tricked  the  deviL" 


m. 

THE    PREFACE. 

WHILC  I  was  learning  Pynushurst,  I  was  surprised  at 
the  amount  of  folly  that  was  in  him ;  and  finding  it  so 
abundant  in  his  notes,  had  almost  induced  me  to  abandon 
the  editing  of  them.  But  I  considered,  that  his  character 
was  now  made  up  of  many  qualities,  dominated  by  two,  the 
one  natural,  the  other  acquired — Pride  and  mournfulness. 

The  causes  of  his  sadness  he  never  spoke  of.  Among  his 
acquaintance,  some  knew  one  cause,  some  another ;  but  he 
was  no  confider.  Something  had  destroyed  his  power  of 
trust. 

Now,  in  a  very  earnest  character,  when  pride  prevents 
any  utterance  of  sadness,  and  when  sadness  is  very  powerful, 
when  it  is  morbid  and  overwhelming,  the  re-action  is  as  ex- 
cited as  possible,  and  always  verges  upon  folly. 


THE    PREFACE.  297 

And  the  haughty  coldness  that  loves  no  sympathy,  that 
will  not  show  its  wounds  even  to  have  them  healed,  cannot 
with  all  its  power,  make  the  tear  pass  into  a  gentle  smile  ; 
it  cannot  gradually  subdue  the  emotions  and  render  them 
calm  and  tractable  by  degress ;  it  must  tear  the  sad  thoughts 
from  the  heart ;  it  must  fling  itself,  as  it  were,  to  some 
extreme. 

With  enthusiasts,  with  poets,  with  impassioned  people 
this  extreme  is  very  often  nonsense ;  it  is  sometimes  mere 
buffoonery.  You  can  see  it  in  Byron,  Burns,  and  many 
another. 

I  wish  to  show  Pynnshurst  as  I  knew  him  ;  as  his  own 
papers  reveal  him.  I  do  not  wish  to  draw  a  perfect  char- 
acter, but  a  real  one ;  not  to  make  a  hero,  but  to  exhibit  a 
man,  commoner  in  society  than  is  generally  believed. 

To  show  a  little  of  this  being,  at  first,  alone  with  nature, 
or  in  the  company  which  one  always  meets  amid  the  Alps 
has  seemed  to  me  the  best  way  of  making  the  experiment. 
If  he  interests  at  all,  I  mean  to  write  his  life,  for  I  have  yet 
other  papers  which  I  am  not  yet  permitted  to  open.  Then, 
perhaps,  the  lesson  may  be  useful. 

Proud,  passionate,  a  dreamer,  generous  in  thought,  word, 
and  deed ;  gentle  in  all  his  instincts,  guided  in  all  things  by 
the  old  French  law,  Noblesse  oblige  ;  deeply  religious,  poet 
and  enthusiast,  with  the  vices  and  virtues  that  belong  to 
such  character ;  the  sufferings  and  pleasures  that  attend  it ; 


298  PYNXSHUKST. 

this,  if  I  can  paint  it,  in  my  rude  way,  faithfully  ;  must,  1 
think,  be  more  or  less  useful. 
That  is  my  preface  to  this  work. 


IV. 

ABOUT    TELL. 

"  (Test  dans  les  petits  Cantons  que  Fon  se  sent  Suisse" 
say  the  Genevois  and  Neuchatelois. 

These,  with  their  wild  scenery,  their  glorious  lakes 
hemmed  in  by  stalwart  Alps ;  their  rushing  floods  innavi- 
gable, their  "  churlish  soil"  and  "  lingering  winters"  form  the 
hero  land  of  the  Switzers.  All  the  other  Cantons  have  their 
history,  but  it  is  the  history  of  the  little  Cantons ;  the  IV, 
Cantons,  the  Primitive  Cantons,  the  Forest  Cantons,  Uri, 
Unterwald,  Schwytz,  and  Lucerne ;  which  make  the  foreigner's 
idea  of  Switzerland. 

Here,  in  this  wild  valley  which  Pynnshurst  and  his  com- 
rades are  looking  at  just  now,  how  many  a  scene  has 
passed ! 

First,  when  Berne  preached  the  Reform  w'th  the  sword 


300  PYNNSHUUST. 

blade  very  unavailingly ;  for  the  Conscience  of  Switzerland, 
Uri,  with  the  other  heroic  Cantons  continued  in  the  old 
faith. 

Then  again.  The  wild  Suwarrow  was  here  in  1799  with 
his  Russians ;  and  the  troops  of  the  French  Revolution  met 
him,  and  were  driven  before  him  ;  they  broke  down  a  part 
of  the  Devil's  Bridge ;  but  boards  were  tied  together  with 
the  scarfs  of  the  Russian  officers,  and  with  such  bridges 
they  crossed  the  torrent,  and  chased  the  French. 

Then  this  fair  valley  echoes  night,  noon,  and  morn,  with 
the  choral  psalm  of  the  mountaineer ;  who  when  the  glad 
sun  cometh  up  the  east,  or  when  they  enter  their  chalets  for 
the  noon-day  meal,  or  when  the  day  goes  down  behind  the 
peaks,  place  themselves  at  their  doors,  and  chant  the 
Angelic  Salutation. 

Then  finally  (after  having  passed  through  Wasen  and 
Amsteg,  where  they  purchased  clouded  crystals  and  bun- 
dles of  asbestos),  at  Attinghausen,  these  same  rocks  and 
waters  witnessed  the  mournful  parting  of  Pynnshurst  and 
Kipps — another  historical  recollection  for  the  hero  Cantons — 
for  Hugh  would  linger  here  a  little  while  with  Nature,  and 
Kipps  went  onward  to  see  "  the  scenery"  with  the  two 
Frenchmen. 

So  Hugh  confided  his  few  messages  of  remembrance  to 
Augustus ;  gave  him  good  counsels,  and  so  they  embraced 
and  parted ;  the  one  for  Altorf,  the  other  to  rest  for  a  time 
in  the  Auberge. 


ABOUT    TELL.  301 

Here  ruled  and  lived  the  noble  Baron  Werner  von 
Attinghausen,  beloved  by  his  people.  Among  them  was 
Walter  Furst. 

The  quarrel  between  Gessler  and  the  Schwytzers  had 
gotten  to  dagger  drawing,  and  needed  but  a  little  to  change 
the  daggers  into  swords. 

This  little  was  soon  furnished ;  a  young  trooper  of 
Gessler  had  insulted  a  woman  of  the  name  of  Baumgarten, 
and  was  slain  by  her  husband.  This  roused  the  slumbering 
wrath  of  Werner  StaufFacher,  Landamman  of  Schwytz.  He 
passed  the  lake,  and  took  refuge  with  Walter  Furst. 

Here  he  found  a  young  man  called  Arnold  Ander 
Halde  de  Melchthal,  who  had  broken  with,  a  rod,  the  finger 
of  an  insolent  servant  of  the  Austrian  governor.  The  latter, 
in  revenge,  put  out  the  eyes  of  Melchthal's  father. 

Then,  these  three,  chose  out  thirty  men,  and  mounted  to 
the  plain  of  Gruttli,  and  promised  mutually,  to  maintain 
their  people  in  the  possession  of  their  ancient  liberties,  but 
without  injury  to  the  rights  of  the  Counts  of  Habsbourg  ; 
(for  it  was  this  rank  which  gave  the  emperors  certain 
rights  in  Switzerland)  only  that  they  would  deliver  to  their 
children  the  freedom  which  they  had  received  from  their 
fathers. 

Then  Furst,  Stauffacher,  and  Melchthal,  raised  their  right 
hands  to  Heaven,  and  swore  "  In  the  Name  of  God,  who 
had  made  Emperors  and  peasants,  and  from  whom  all  hold 
the  inalienable  rights  of  humanity,  valorously  to  defend 


302 

their  menaced  liberty,  each  giving  what  aid  was  in  his 
power." 

Here  was  already,  you  perceive,  a  very  promising  little 
beginning  of  a  revolution.  And  it  is  this  oath,  or  rather  a 
picture  of  it,  that  you  find  represented  in  frescoes  upon  sides 
of  houses,  as  at  Altorf,  in  wood  carvings,  engravings,  and 
what  not ;  wherein  the  three  swearers  strike  picturesque 
attitudes,  exhibit  a  prodigious  muscular  development  of 
calf,  and  point  with  more  or  less  grandeur  to  the  clouds. 

Now  while  affairs  were  in  this  state,  Governor  Herman 
Gessler,  who  was  about  as  big  a  fool  as  he  was  a  tyrant, 
advised  himself  to  set  a  cap  upon  a  pole,  and  "  all  people, 
nations,  tongues,  and  languages,  were  to  bow  down  before 
this  image  which  '  Gessler  the  Governor,'  had  set  up." 

But  a  certain  man  of  Uri,  son-in-law  of  Furst,  and  known 
as  William  Tell,  declared,  that  he  would  bow  to  the  Duke 
of  Austria,  or  even  to  the  Governor,  his  representative,  but 
that  the  necks  of  the  Uri  ( Urus,  buffalo)  were  too  stiff  to 
bend  to  caps,  ducal  caps,  night  caps,  or  others,  of  whatever 
species  they  might  happen  to  be. 

Then  happened  the  incident  of  shooting  the  apple  from 
the  head  of  his  son,  by  Tell.  Then  Gessler  himself  would 
take  the  sturdy  archer  across  the  lake,  to  imprison  him  for 
contempt,  in  another  canton. 

But  near  the  Griittli,  the  land  hurricane,  called  the  Fcehn, 
leaped  out  from  the  deep  valleys  of  St.  Gothard  and  roused 
the  lake  to  fury. 


ABOUT    TELL.  303 

Tell  was  the  best  boatman,  as  well  as  the  best  archer,  in 
the  four  cantons,  and  Gessler,  cutting  his  bonds,  ordered  him 
to  conduct  the  boat  to  the  shore.  He  obeyed ;  guided  the 
boat  skilfully  amid  the  vexed  waves  to  the  foot  of  the 
Axenberg ;  leaped  to  the  shore,  in  pushing  back  the  skiff 
with  his  foot,  and  bounded  up  the  mountain  side  like  a 
chamois. 

Gessler  escaped  this  danger,  and  went  towards  Kussnacht ; 
but  in  a  defile  of  the  road  as  he  passed,  Tell  stained  his 
name  and  that  of  his  country's  struggle  for  freedom,  by  the 
cold-blooded  assassination  of  his  enemy.  He  shot  him  from 
behind  a  rock,  in  the  canton  of  Schwytz,  and  fled  to  Eis 
brother-in-law  at  Attinghausen. 

This  set  the  ball  famously  in  motion.  All  the  high  nobles 
declared  against  Austria  and  led  the  people  in  the  war ;  and 
a  variety  of  things  were  done ;  a  variety  of  heroes  revealed ; 
numerous  people  killed ;  the  Emperor  Albert  rendered 
highly  dissatisfied ;  the  cantons  freed,  and  subjects  innume- 
rable furnished  for  bad  frescoes  and  worse  tragedies. 

Hugh  never  could  find  out  how  the  nobles  perished.  All 
through  Switzerland  there  are  families  called  noble,  reve- 
renced by  the  people  and  enjoying  a  sufficiently  good 
opinion  of  themselves  and  their  importance,  but  called  by 
no  title. 

Fribourg,  it  is  true,  is  divided  into  families  patrician  and 
plebeian,  and  was,  until  1848,  governed  by  about  twenty  of 
the  former,  in  whom  the  right  to  govern  and  legislate  is 


304  PYNNSHUKST. 

hereditary  ;  but  even  in  Schwytz,  there  is  a  class  called  the 
nobles. 

Pynnshurst  dined,  as  greater  and  lesser  men  have  done 
before  him  ;  took  a  look  at  his  room,  asked  numerous  ques- 
tions in  defective  German ;  received  responses  of  which  he 
understood  just  half,  and  then  walked  out  of  doors  to  make 
a  survey  of  the  village,  and  to  look  at  the  house  wherein 
Walther  Furst  was  born  :  he  found  it  to  be  uncommonly 
like  the  other  houses  in  Attinghausen,  and  went  satisfied  to 
bed:  slept  well,  and  started  the  next  morning  for  the 
mountains. 


V. 

THE  WHITE  BULL. 

LEAVING  Attinghausen,  then,  of  which  we  may  say  that 
it  is  a  quaint  little  place,  looking  old  beyond  the  memory  of 
eagles,  he  started  off  for  a  walk,  and,  choosing  the  first  path 
that  he  came  to,  followed  it  till  it  led  him  up  among  the 
Surrennes. 

Here  he  lighted  on  a  superb  cascade,  that  flung  itself 
wrathfully  over  sixty  feet  of  shelving,  rugged  rock.  Weary 
with  his  walk,  he  was  glad  to  see  a  cottage  beside  him, 
where  he  knew  that  he  was  sure  of  a  welcome  and  a  drink 
of  milk. 

"  You  come  from  Attinghausen,"  said  the  peasant  wife 
who  received  him,  "  you  must  be  a  stout  walker  though  you 
don't  look  like  it." 

"  Oh,  I  am  getting  used  to  it,"  he  answered,  "  and  in 
your  beautiful  country  here  one  never  tires  of  walking." 


306  PYNNSHURST. 

"  You  English  gentlefolks,"  she  sahl,  "  have  a  great  many 
droll  ways  of  finding  pleasure.  If  I  had  fine  houses  and 
comforts  like  you,  I  would  not  walk  about  over  our  steep 
mountain  paths." 

"  My  good  dame,"  said  Hugh,  gravely,  "  the  enervate  soul 
of  the  civilized  man  finds  alleviation  for  satiety  cnly  in  that 
which  contrasts  the  routine  of  his  actual  existence.  It  is  a 
part  of  the  '  universal  fitness  of  things.'  " 

"  Ah  !"  she  cried,  "  you  are  laughing  at  me.  That's  philo- 
sophy that  you  were  talking.  I  know  it  when  I  hear  it :  a 
philosophy  stayed  with  me  once,  in  this  little  cottage,  for  a 
month ;  he  was  hunting  for  flowers  here,  and  called  a  moun- 
tain daisy,  by  a  name  as  long  as  from  here  to  Altorf.  But 
he  was  an  honest,  brave  little  gentleman  as  ever  I  saw, 
though  he  was  bald.  He  cured  Hans  of  the  fever,  and 
would  not  let  me  take  it  out  of  his  board.  If  all  the  philo- 
sophies were  like  him,  welcome  one  and  all,  would  I  say. 
He  was  very  fond  of  a  drink  of  milk." 

"  I  am  not  a  philosophy  myself,  Madame,"  said  Hugh, 
'  but  I  like  milk  as  much  as  the  driest  of  them." 

"  And  you  shall  have  some,"  she  said,  "  in  one  moment, 
with  a  foam  on  it  like  the  Stierenbach  yonder." 

She  disappeared  for  a  moment,  but  returned  with  a  brown 
loaf  in  one  hand  and  a  full  bowl  in  the  other. 

"  "What  did  you  call  the  torrent  there  ?"  asked  Pynn- 
shurst. 


THE    WHITE    BULL.  307 

"  The  Stierenbach,"  she  answered,  "  that  is,  the  Bull's 
Torrent." 

"  And  why  do  you  give  it  that  name,  pray  ?" 

"  Oh,  it  is  an  old,  old  name,  that.  You  see  that  there 
are  fine  patches  of  pasture  about  here ;  and  long  ago,  the 
people  of  Uri  and  of  Unterwald  used  to  fight  about  the 
ownership  of  them.  Well,  among  these  herdsmen  was  a 
wild  fellow  called  Ital  Struck,  who  cared  for  little  except  his 
cattle,  and  he  went  so  far  as  to  baptize  one  favorite  animal, 
and  to  give  it  a  Christian  name. 

"  But  lo  and  behold,  the  beast  changed  suddenly  into  a 
frightful  monster,  which  first  devoured  Ital  Struck,  and 
then  took  possession  of  the  pastures,  suffering  neither  men 
nor  cattle  to  come  near  them.  So  it  was  agreed  between 
the  Men  of  Uri  and  of  Unterwald,  that  whosoever  of  the  two 
should  rid  the  country  of  the  monster,  should  have  the  title 
to  the  pasturage. 

"  The  men  of  Uri  accordingly  sent  to  consult  a  wonderful 
magician  who  had  just  come  from  Spain ;  and  he  gave 
them  this  advice.  To  choose  a  calf  which  was  to  be  nur- 
tured by  a  single  cow  the  first  year,  by  two  the  second,  and 
so  on  till  he  got  to  be  nine  years  old.  Then  he  was  to  be 
led  here  by  a  maiden  with  light  hair,  and  dark  eyes,  and 
she  must  be  an  orphan.  She  was  to  be  attended  by  a  boy 
whose  father  and  grandfather,  mother  and  grandmother, 
were  still  alive. 

"  So  when  the  ninth  year  came  about,   there  was  the 


308  VJTNNSHURST. 

most  beautiful  and  gentle  bull  ever  seen  ;  his  bide  was 
white  as  snow,  but  his  short  sharp  horns  were  black  ;  and 
at  the  proper  time  he  was  wreathed  with  flowers,  and  the 
maiden  led  him  here,  and  then  retired. 

"  As  soon  as  he  found  himself  alone,  he  uttered  three 
tremendous  bellows,  which  brought  the  monster  out  from 
his  cave ;  and  then  began  the  most  terrible  fight  ever 
known.  You  can  see  the  prints  of  the  bull's  hoofs  all  along 
the  rocks  there  yet. 

"  Well  in  the  end,  the  monster  was  beaten,  and  rushing 
to  the  small  lake  there,  plunged  in,  making  that  cataract  by 
his  plunge,  and  never  was  seen  again  from  that  day  to  this. 
But  the  conqueror  went  to  drink  at  the  water,  and  its  cold- 
ness killed  him.  So  the  men  of  Uri  got  the  pasture,  and 
called  it  Stierenbach,  in  memory  of  the  bull." 

Hugh  thanked  his  hostess,  drank  his  milk,  and  slipping  a 
gulden  into  the  hands  of  a  little  girl,  daughter  of  the  land- 
lady, bade  her  adieu,  and  walked  down  to  his  inn. 

There  as  he  noted  in  his  journal  what  she  had  told  him, 
he  bethought  him  of  a  legend  in  the  Iron  Alp,  which  a 
guide  had  told  him  at  Moesbach,  a  village  on  the  borders 
of  Uri  and  Schwytz. 

They  believe  in  the  village  there,  that  if  any  one,  through 
a  malicious  wish  to  cheat  his  lawful  heirs,  buries  or  hides 
his  money,  his  soul  will  be  tormented  until  some  one  shall 
find  the  hoard,  and  put  it  once  more  in  circulation. 

Now  a  certain  widow  having  quarrelled  with  the  kinsfolk 


THE    WHITE    BULL.  309 

of  her  late  husband,  sold  all  her  property,  cast  the  purchase 
money  into  a  gloomy  chasm  near  the  village,  and  soon  after 
died. 

In  the  village,  at  this  time,  lived  a  poor  devil,  who  called 
himself  Hantz  Laimer,  whose  only  employment  was  to 
search  for  hidden  treasures.  He  was  always  followed  by  a 
goat  with  three  horns,  which  he  took  with  him  to  all  the  old 
chateaux,  abandoned  chalets,  ruins,  and  every  other  place 
which  tradition  had  mentioned  as  the  resting-place  of  a 
treasure. 

Well,  on  Christmas  Eve,  when  the  night  had  fallen,  a 
phantom  appeared,  and  addressed  him  in  these  words : — 

"  Hantz  Laimer,  follow  me  !  I  wish  to  enrich  thee !" 
,  Hantz  followed  without  hesitation,  and  soon  arrived  at 
the  chasm  where  the  widow  had  thrown  her  money. 
"  Descend,"  said  the  phantom ;  and,  without  hesitation, 
Hantz  leaped  down,  and  found  himself  beside  his  three- 
horned  goat. 

By  the  side  of  the  animal,  he  perceived  a  huge  cauldron 
full  of  gold  and  silver.  Couched  on  the  top  of  the  glittering 
mass,  squatted  an  enormous  toad,  with  fierce  red  eyes. 

"  Hantz,"  said  the  phantom,  "  kiss  that  toad  three  times, 
and  the  cauldron  and  its  contents  will  be  yours,  and  you 
will  deliver  a  soul  in  pain.  Be  not  afraid,  when  I  tell  you 
that  at  each  kiss  he  will  become  more  frightful." 

Hantz  kissed  it  once,  and  its  vilo  mouth  opened  half  way 
down  its  body,  and  its  red  swollen  tongue  lolled  out. 


310  PYNNSHURST. 

He  kissed  it  twice,  and  every  freckle  on  its  bloated 
carcase  seemed  to  crawl,  and  its  loathsome  eyes  hung  from 
their  sockets  but  still  leered  at  him. 

Then  Hantz  could  stand  no  more,  but  started  back, 
bellowing  with  horror,  and  the  cauldron  rolled  into  a  fissure 
of  the  rock  with  a  terrible  din,  and  the  three-horned  goat 
fell  stark  and  stiff;  and  the  toad  disappeared  in  the  side  of 
the  mountain  with  a  fearful  scream,  and  as  Hantz  crawled 
from  the  chasm  he  heard  these  words  three  times  repeated 
far  off  in  the  .hollow  of  the  mountain — 

"Lost!  lost!  for  evermore !" 

A  good  sleep  refreshed  him,  and  prepared  him  to  start 
the  next  morning  for  Altorf.  A  short  walk  brought  him 
to  this  pretty  city,  or  town ;  where  the  first  thing  he 
saw  was  William  Tell,  in  a  very  uncomfortable  position  on 
top  of  a  fountain. 

From  him,  he  turned  his  eyes  towards  the  side  of  a 
house,  where,  perhaps,  the  abominablest  fresco  that  ever 
was  painted,  exhibited  the  three  swearers  of  the  Gruttli. 
The  fountain  occupies  the  place  of  the  pole  which  held  the 
cap,  unbowed  to  by  Tell. 

It  is  here  that  the  shooting  scene  took  place ;  a  fountain 
marks  the  position  of  the  archer,  some  other  thing  the  place 
of  his  son ;  but  the  apple  which  he  shot  from  the  boy's 
head  has  not  been  preserved;  it  was  probably  munched 


THE    WHITE    BULL.  311 

by  the  youngster,  after  the  extraction  of  the  paternal 
dart. 

As  there  is  nothing  else  to  see,  Hugh  pushes  on  to  the 
bright  little  borough  of  Flueln;  where  the  glorious  lake 
of  the  four  Cantons,  rolls  its  silver  waters,  amid  glorious 
scenes;  and  bears  upon  its  bosom,  the  shadows  of  the 
Rhigi  and  of  Pilate. 

Yonder,  the  jetty  swarms  with  people.  Two  brown  robed 
Capuchin  friars,  with  their  sandalled  feet.  Gaily  dressed 
Germans,  the  women  of  which  nation  always  travel  in  full 
gala-dress.  Travellers  of  every  grade  from  the  rich  milor  in 
his  luxurious  berlin,  to  the  student  with  his  knapsack  on  his 
shoulder.  Alpine  sticks,  well  covered  with  names,  or  pure 
as  yet,  are  abundant.  Baggage  and  children  very  numerous. 

Opposite  the  hotel  is  a  little  church,  into  which  Pynns- 
hurst  goes  and  says  a  prayer.  Then  marches  down  among 
the  people  to  look  at  his  fellow  travellers,  and  to  watch  the 
approach  of  the  little  steamer  yonder,  which  comes  paddling 
and  splashing  along,  to  the  great  astonishment  of  the  grave, 
quiet  Alps. 

Beech-woods  and  pine-woods  climb  from  the  water's  edge, 
up  the  tall  hills ;  the  chalet  and  the  herdsman's  cottage 
glimmer  through  the  dusky  leaves.  Sinister  Pilate  rears 
his  cloudy  head,  and  promises  foul  weather ;  it  is  clear  and 
fair  just  here,  but  the  glooms  are  thick  there  round  the  crest 
of  the  mountain  of  the  Accursed. 

The  boat  touches  the  shore  and  is  made  fast ;  the  plank, 


312  PYNNSHURST. 

just  like  an  American  one,  is  thrown  out ;  a  small  man  in  a 
bluejacket,  with  anchor-stamped  brass-buttons,  helps  the 
ladies  out,  and  tries  his  best  to  look  like  a  sailor. 

Pedestrians  for  the  mountain  route  that  Hugh  has  passed 
over ;  families  in  post-coaches,  for  St.  Gotthard ;  bands  of  long- 
haired students ;  brown  coated  guides ;  a  cassock  or  two, 
and  dames  and  babes  innumerous  leave  the  small  affair  ;  and 
Hugh  goes  on  board  with  the  crowd ;  and  the  bell  is  rung, 
and  much  bellowing  is  heard,  according  to  the  rule  in  such 
cases,  and  so  they  turn  their  faces  from  Flueln,  and  steam 
along  the  glorious  lake. 

Look  behind  you ;  in  that  little  chapel,  de  Stauffacher 
and  Furst  met  with  their  peasant  comrade,  Melchthal,  and 
formed  their  earliest  plans ;  that  height  there  is  the  Gruttli, 
where  they  swore. 

But  now  we  pass  another  little  building  ;  entirely  open  on 
the  lake  side.  You  wonder  to  see  it,  unprotected  there 
amid  the  wild  scenery.  By  the  cross  upon  it,  you  see  that 
it  is  a  chapel ;  as  you  come  nearer,  you  recognize  the  altar  ; 
the  solemn  crucifix  rising  in  the  centre  ;  the  flower  vases  and 
all  the  sacred  ornaments.  "What  does  it  there  alone  !  It  is 
the  glory  of  every  Swiss.  To  that  one  Catholic  shrine  at 
least  each  protestant  head  (if  Swiss)  is  bared. 

That  rock  there  in  front,  is  the  rock  on  which  leaped 
Wilhelm  Tell,  when  he  spurned  back  the  bark  containing 
Gessler,  amid  the  boiling  waves.  It  is  the  Tellen  Cappel, 
the  Chapel  Tell. 


THE    WHITE   BULL.  313 

There,  once  in  every  year,  a  solemn  mass  of  thanksgiving 
is  celebrated.  And  the  lake  is  covered  with  painted  boats, 
clad  with  gay  streamers ;  echoing  with  music ;  and  Switzer- 
land comes  there  to  thank  the  God  of  armies  for  the  victories 
that  He  gave  them,  and  the  freedom  which  he  aided  them 
to  win  in  the  bye-gone  hero  times. 


VI. 

LUCERNE. 

DOUBTLESS  the  lake  of  the  four  Cantons,  sometimes 
known  as  the  Lake  of  Lucerne,  should  have  inspired  Hugh 
with  numerous  thoughts,  for  it  is  very  beautiful,  and  made 
him  often  think  of  the  Hudson  from  Caldwell's  to  New- 
burgh.  You  go  straight  up  northward  to  Brunnen ;  then 
you  strike  to  the  left ;  then  north  again,  and  finally  in  a 
sort  of  "  north'ard  by  west'ard"  advancement  you  descend 
upon  Lucerne. 

I  know  that  it  ought  to  be  described,  but  the  wanderer 
has  not  left  me  even  a  note,  and  I  have  had  description 
enough.  Stop !  I  know  what  to  do. 

"  Crystal  waters ;  blue,  profound,  glorious  Alps  ;  Khigi 
wild  pine ;  wind  of  the  hills ;  glancing  billows,  brightening 
in  the  beam ;  Weggis ;  Mount  Pilate ;  crest  of  snows ;  Tell ; 


LUCERNE.  315 

Cessler;  cloudy  shrouds;  crags;  chalets.;  chamois;  hero 
age ;  the  holy  Past." 

There,  my  dear  madam,  are  the  materials  for  a  descrip- 
tion in  our  style.  Mix  'em  to  suit  yourself. 

The  boat  stopped  very  near  to  an  exaggerated  hotel 
which  looked  with  true  parvenu  insolence  over  the  noble 
old  lake  ;  all  blue  granite,  windows,  novelty,  and  pretension. 
All  which,  however,  did  not  prevent  its  being  a  very  capital 
hotel  that  Schweitzerhof.  There  may  good  things  be  got 
for  dinner ;  seduisant  breakfasts  tempt  you ;  and  you  are 
well  treated,  and  the  bills  are  as  long  as  a  crane's. 

So  when  Hugh  had  spruced  himself  up  a  bit,  and 
had  slightly  refreshed  both  outward  and  inward  man ; 
he  made  a  rush  at  a  long  bridge  which  was  near 
and  walked  through  it  and  back  again  glancing  at  the 
pictures  with  which  each  arch  is  adorned;  and  which 
represent  the  lives  of  S.S.  Maurice  and  Leger ;  and 
which  would  be  much  more  instructive  if  they  were  not 
quite  so  dilapidated.  This  he  thought,  while  looking  for  a 
moment  at  the  beautiful  view  which  any  one  can  enjoy 
from  the  middle  arches,  if  always  the  said  any  one  be  not 
blind,  or  if  he  be  there. 

Then  Hugh  went  to  the  cathedral,  and  saw  a  fine,  old 
church,  and  a  goblet  of  Charles  of  Burgundy,  who,  by  the 
way,  has  left  plate  enough  behind  him  in  Switzerland  to 
furnish  the  court  of  an  emperor.  In  this  country,  every  old 
article  in  silver,  every  tin  cup  gilded,  every  bit  of  old  bro- 


316  PYNNSHURST. 

cade,  and  armout  somewhat  inlaid  and  adorned  came  from 
the  table,  the  tent,  the  body  of  Charles  the  Bold.  There 
are,  at  least,  eleven  full  suits  of  armour  in  Switzerland, 
all  of  which  were  worn  by  the  Duke  at  the  siege  of  Morat 
only.  He  must  have  kept  his  armorers  very  busy  changing 
him. 

To  get  to  the  church,  you  mount  several  broad  steps  to 
the  platform  upon  which  it  is  built.  You  find  yourself  in  a 
huge  court  in  front  of  the  portal.  Those  old  towers,  and 
the  paintings  on  them,  are  of  the  fourteenth  century ;  the 
rest  of  the  edifice  is  more  modern. 

Three  sides  of  the  court  are  arcaded,  and  form  a  long 
stone-paved  walk  going  round  the  church.  This  is  the 
cemetery.  Each  division  has  its  picture,  some  of  exquisite 
merit ;  its  cross,  its  garland  of  flowers ;  its  benitier,  and  its 
aspersoir.  There  is  sometimes  a  bust  of  the  deceased ; 
sometimes  a  crucifix  the  size  of  life,  sometimes  a  group  in 
marble.  There  is  the  raising  of  Lazarus,  of  the  widow's  son, 
the  benediction  of  "  the  little  ones  suffered  to  come  unto 
Him."  Once  there  is  the  consoling  Angel,  who  caresses 
with  his  left  arm  and  wings  two  little  orphans,  kneeling  by 
a  grave,  and  points  with  his  right  hand  upward  to  where 
the  brightened  heavens  veil  the  rich  portals  of  the  Better 
Land. 


VII. 

THE    LION    OF    LUCERNE. 

IN  all  guide  books,  one  reads  of  the  Lion  of  Lucerne : 
in  all  shop  windows,  in  carved  wood,  marble,  stucco,  clay, 
one  sees  the  Lion  of  Lucerne  :  So  Hugh  Pynnshurst  goes 
in  search  of  it  And  as  he  went,  he  tried  to  fancy  what  it 
was  and  wherefore.  He  knew  that  it  came  from  the 
glorious  chisel  of  Thorwaldsen  ;  and  he  dreamed  about  it  as 
he  walked. 

He  dreamed  that  long  ago,  say  sixty  years  or  so,  a  good 
king  reigned  in  the  pleasant  land  of  France ;  where  the 
vineyards  bloom  upon  the  hill  side,  and  gleaming  waters 
wind  amid  the  flowers  ;  where  the  blue  sky  hath  few  clouds, 
and  rich  fruits  nod  from  sunny  garden  walls ;  where  old 
forests  tremble  to  the  winds,  and  mountains  and  the  ocean 
form  a  barrier;  where  every  step  brings  a  new  history, 


318  PYNNSHURST. 

where  every  stone  has  a  legend  of  knightly  memory  ;  where 
Bayard  and  Du  Guesclin  fought,  and  Holy  Louis  ruled,  and 
good  St.  Vincent  preached.  That  there  ruled  a  good  king, 
called  Louis,  from  his  saintly  ancestor. 

But  he  dreamed  that  Richelieu  had  destroyed  the  nobles 
(those  God-ordained  bulwarks  of  a  throne,)  and  that  the 
ancient  chivalry  had  grown  quite  dissolute,  and  had  ex- 
changed the  thrilling  clarion  for  "  the  lascivious  pleasings  ot 
the  lute  ;"  that  man  had  degraded  woman;  that  cold,  infidel 
philosophy  had  frozen  ancient  faith ;  and  that  France  had 
thrown  aside  those  two  heroic  sayings,  " Noblesse  obliye" 
and  "  Dieu,  son  honneur  et  sa  dame." 

Then  God  left  France.  Yes,  left  it,  though  a  holy  king 
was  on  the  throne ;  who  stripped  himself  to  give  his  people 
bread ;  who  lived  by  prayer  and  alms ;  whose  only  fault 
was  this,  that  his  kind  heart  was  too  loving,  too  merciful 
towards  his  people. 

God  punishes  man  for  great  crimes  committed,  by  leaving 
him  to  commit  others.  Who  throws  away  grace,  has  none. 
There  needs  a  martyr  for  great  principles,  and  remission 
comes  by  blood. 

Louis  must  suffer  for  the  sins  of  his  people,  of  his  sire, 
of  France. 

Fear  paralyzes  the  heart  of  that  fair  land.  An  awful 
spirit  is  abroad,  and  its  name  is  Revolution.  Crush  it,  King 
Louis,  or  it  crushes  thee. 


TUB    LION    OF    LUCERNE.  319 

"  They  are  my  people,"  spake  the  king,  "  I  will  not  crush 
them." 

"  But  historians  will  mock  at  thy  weakness." 

"  Let  them  mock  !  at  least  they  will  say  that  I  loved  my 
people." 

Then  the  whole  fabric  of  society  fell,  for  it  was  rotten; 
and  from  the  dust  and  ruins  swarmed  up  myriads  of  crea- 
tures hitherto  unseen.  The  wise  deliberated :  the  timid  fled : 
the  false  betrayed  God  and  King.  God  turned  away  his 
face  :  King  Louis  trusted  his  people. 

"Wild  men  and  wilder  women  roved  the  streets,  crying 
now  for  bread,  now  for  a  constitution.  Blasphemies  floated 
in  the  air :  pollutions  stank  amid  the  city.  Reason  was 
throned  in  the  temple  of  the  Highest.  And  ever  the  human 
ocean  swelled  and  raged,  and  the  throne  tottered  as  the 
billows  shook  it ;  and  he  that  sate  thereon  wept,  but  still 
loved  his  people. 

And  the  fierce  cries  changed,  in  the  course  of  years,  men 
say, — they  seemed  but  moments  in  Hugh  Pynnshurst's 
dream. 

There  is  a  stately  lady  by  the  throne,  exquisitely  beau- 
tiful but  white  as  death.  The  blood  of  many  kings  flows  in 
her  veins  and  she  does  not  know  how  to  fear,  but  she  does 
not  trust  the  people. 

At  first  Hugh  seems  to  hear  them  crying,  'mid  the 
pauses  of  splendid  music,  "  God  save  Louis  the  benevolent, 
King  of  France  and  of  Navarre,"  but  no !  it  seems  ho  lias 


320  I'YNNSIIURST. 

not  heard  aright ;  it  is,  "  Livo  the  Restorer  of  Liberty !"  and 
yet  not  so,  it  is,  "  Long  live  the  King  of  the  French  !"  Ah, 
if  they  cried  those  things  they  have  changed  them  suddenly. 
Now  they  say,  "  Down  with  Monsieur  Veto !" 

One  moment's  silence ;  then  swells  an  awful  roar,  min- 
gled with  howlings  as  of  countless  wolves  that  have  lapped 
human  blood,  and  its  distinctness  curdles  the  blood  in  the 
dreamer's  veins  and  the  marrow  in  his  bones  ;  and  the  face 
of  the  stately  lady  waxes  white  with  agony,  but  does  not 
lose  its  stateliness  as  the  yell  bursts  forth,  "  Death  to  Louis 
Capet  and  to  the  Austrian  !" 

And  still  King  Louis  loves  his  people. 

Then  Pynnshurst  hears  the  roar  of  the  Lion  of 
Lucerne  ! 

Loyalty  is  a  child  of  the  mountains.  You  find  it  there 
where  ancient  blood  flows  purely  in  the  veins  of  the  hill 
men.  Whether  in  the  Highland  offspring  of  the  old  Norse 
Kings,  the  clans  that  died  for  Charles ;  or  in  the  chil- 
dren of  the  rude  Scythian  Barons,  the  Swiss  who  died  for 
Louis. 

They  had  come  from  their  far,  cold  Alps,  to  be  a  guard 
for  the  King  of  France.  Diesbach  and  Erlach,  Counts  of 
old  renown ;  Zimmerman  of  long  line ;  Castella  from  the 
pasture  lands  of  Gruyere,  and  Grison  Sails,  with  his  melan- 
choly harp. 

There  are  now  some  thousand  and  fifty  of  them  at  the 


THE    LION    OF    LUCERNE.  321 

Tuilleries.     And  the  butcher  Santerre  with  his  furious  mul- 
titudes marches  against  them. 

"  Throw  down  your  arms,"  cried  the  Butcher. 

"  Yes,  but  only  with  our  lives,"  was  the  answer. 

Then  commenced  the  unequal  war;  the  mountaineers 
defending  themselves  with  what  few  arms  they  had,  and  the 
thousands  assailing  them  with  musketry  and  artillery. 
But  they  fight  fearfully  those  guards  of  the  king  ;  hundreds 
have  fallen,  but  not  vainly  ;  the  howls  below  there  show  that 
the  wolves  are  stricken. 

Then  comes  that  last  sad  order. 

"  The  King  commands  the  Swiss,  to  depose  at  once  their 
arms  and  to  enter  their  quarters. 

(signed)     Louis." 

Alas  !  Louis,  they  are  all  the  defenders  thou  hast  left. 
"  True,  but  they  are  killing  my  people."  "  But  thy  people 
hate  thee."  "  It  may  be ;  but  I  love  them." 

Obey,  ye  noble  Swiss ;  ye  at  least  are  true  soldiers,  ye 
know  that  the  warrior's  first  duty  is  obedience.  Issue  from 
the  Tuileries,  brave  guards,  with  your  families  !  They  do 
so,  and  the  knife  finishes  them.  Soldiers  and  servants,  women 
and  little  children  are  heaped  up  in  the  courts,  in  the  gar- 
dens, at  the  gates  of  the  Louvre,  in  the  prisons,  in  the 
hospitals  !* 

*  Histoire  du  massacre  de  10  Avril  par  le  maire  Petion. 
14* 


322  PYNNSHUB3T. 

A  thousand  lie  dead  in  Paris.    One  or  two  get  back  to 
their  mountains. 


In  the  side  of  a  rock,  above  a  little  lake  where  the  water 
drips  always  from  the  heights,  is  carved  the  den.  There 
dies  the  giant  lion.  A  broken  spear  is  hi  his  side ;  below 
him  a  lance  point  presses  on  a  cross  marked  buckler ;  and  a 
shivered  battle-axe  lies  in  front  of  him.  On  the  calm 
glorious  face,  is  dignity  and  death.  Slowly  the  blood  is 
streaming  from  his  side,  the  heroic  eye  is  glazed ;  the  brow 
contracted  with  proud  pain  that  does  not  murmur,  and  the 
great  head  bowed  upon  the  shattered  paw  which  still  guards 
the  lily  shield  of  France. 

The  lance  is  in  thy  side, 

O  stately  forest  king ! 
Quenched  is  thine  eye  of  pride, 

And  paralyzed  thy  spring. 
The  echoes  of  thy  roar 
Shall  wake  the  woods  no  more. 

No  more  thy  foaming  teeth  shall  cling 
With  awful  clench  to  the  livid  prey; 
For  thy  broken  heart  bleeds  fast  away, 

Thou  crownless,  dying  king ! 

Beside  the  gleaming  Seine, 
Thy  fiery  eyeballs  shine, 


THE    LION    OF    LUCERNE.  323 

Out  from  the  throbbing  vein 

The  hot  gore  spouts  like  wine. 
Thou  guardest,  thou  alone, 
A  king  and  an  ancient  throne  : — 

But  a  thousand  hungry  gaunt  wolves  pine ; 
They  have  tasted  blood,  their  thirst  is  wild 
And  they  rush  on  thee.  0  forest  child, 

For  the  warmest  blood  'tis  thine ! 

Well  dost  thou  fight  to-day : 

But  the  master  bids  thee  hold, 
And  thou  canst  but  obey — 

Loyal  as  thou  art  bold — 
Then  fall  and  perish  there, 
Far  from  thy  native  lair ; 

But  ere  thy  sinewy  limbs  are  cold, 
Prove,  even  while  thou  dost  expire, 
That  Truth  is  mightier  and  higher 

Even  than  the  love  of  gold. 

Yet  let  thy  fading  eye 

Rest  on  the  cruel  lance ; 
Thy  guardian  foot  still  lie 

On  the  broken  shield  of  France. 
Shake  from  thy  mighty  mane 
The  drops  of  crimson  rain ! 

Kindle  once  more  that  kingly  glance, 
Till  the  gaunt  and  howling  pack 
For  an  instant  more  shrink  back — 

Then  fall  and  die  for  France  ! 

But  while  a  soul  can  burn 

With  a  glorious  thought  and  high. 


324  PYNNSHURST. 

While  thrilling  hearts  can  yearn 

For  the  noble  when  they  die : 
While  there  is  upon  the  sod 
One  true  to  King  and  God. 

His  earnest  glowing  thoughts  shall  turn 
To  thy  most  sacred  memory, 
And  his  quivering  lids  o'erflovr  for  thee, 

Thou  Lion  of  Lucerne ! 

Having  "  rid  his  bosom  of  this  perilous  stuff,"  Pynn- 
shurst  felt  somewhat  easier,  talked  awhile  with  the  last  of 
the  Swiss  Guard,  who  in  his  patched,  red  uniform,  shows 
the  sublime  monument,  and  who  was  a  drummer  boy  in  the 
Eegiment ;  and  then  went  into  the  little  shop  which  no 
lion  in  Switzerland  is  without,  not  even  the  Lion  of 
Lucerne. 

Here  he  bought  a  clay  model,  a  fac-simile  of  Louis'  last 
order,  and  other  matters,  and  returned  to  his  hotel  to  rumi- 
nate on  a  variety  of  matters,  and  to  stare  out  of  his  windows 
at  the  cloudy  Pilate.  But  not  without  having  entered  the 
little  chapel  to  say  a  prayer  for  the  repose  of  the  noblo 
Guards,  before  the  Altar,  whose  pall  was  embroidered  by 
the  hands  of  the  Duchess  of  Angouleme,  and  to  admire  the 
fine  legend  of  the  chapel.  It  consists  of  two  words  only. 

"  PAX  INVICTIS  !"     Peace  to  the  unconquered ! 


VIII. 

PONTIUS    PILATE. 

Two  separate  points,  lifting  themselves  gloomily  through 
the  clouds,  mark  the  sombre  mass  of  Mount  Pilate,  a  height 
of  ten  leagues  surface. 

Upon  the  Brundelalp  is  a  cavern,  wherein  a  mass  of  rock 
represents  a  man  seated  at  a  table,  reading.  It  is  called  the 
statue  of  St.  Dominick. 

But  as  you  climb  the  steep  and  rugged  sides  of  the  huge 
calcareous  mass,  you  see,  perhaps,  half  way  up,  a  black  and 
sullen-looking  lake,  framed  in  wild  rocks,  and  savage  as 
scenery  can  possibly  be. 

You  are  not  to  sing  nor  speak  until  you  pass  it.  Above 
all,  you  must  shun  to  cast  or  fruit,  or  flower,  or  stone,  or 
morsel  of  wood,  or  any  other  thing,  into  its  dark  and 
gloomy  waters  ;  but  mutter  your  prayer,  and  so  pass  on. 


326  PYNNSHUHST. 

By  disobeying  any  of  these  commands,  you  may  awaken 
the  soul  of  Pontius  Pilate,  which  lieth  chained,  the  peasants 
tell  you,  under  the  livid  flood. 

This  is  the  legend  which  father  has  handed  down  to  son, 
among  the  stalwart  mountaineers  of  Lucerne. 

When  Pilate  had  condemned  our  Lord,  a  fear  took  pos- 
session of  him,  which  changed,  after  the  crucifixion, 
into  the  deepest  despair.  Sleep  deserted  him,  and  his 
food  became  repulsive  to  him.  So  he  quitted  Judea 
for  Rome,  hoping  to  escape  from  memory  by  change  of 
place. 

But  the  shadow  of  the  cross  was  everywhere;  on  the 
Eternal  city  as  on  the  rock  of  Calvary.  At  last,  after  many 
wanderings,  finding  no  relief,  no  lessening  of  his  horrible 
remembrances,  he  imitated  Judas  and  hanged  himself. 

But  there  is  only  one  rest  in  the  grave ;  the  rest  of  the 
Just.  Earth  would  not  keep  within  her  bosom  the  clay  of 
him  who  had  condemned  her  Maker.  In  an  earthquake  he 
was  cast  out  of  his  tomb  into  the  water.  But  at  once  the 
waters  stormed ;  an  incessant  blackness  brooded  over  them ; 
the  clouds  loved  to  gather  there ;  the  waters  raged  without 
ceasing,  and  neither  bark  nor  man  dared  tempt  their  surface. 
At  last  the  governor  of  the  country  commanded  that  the 
corpse  should  be  searched  for  and  carried  far  away. 

So  they  bore  him  to  France,  and  dug  a  grave  upon 
mountain  near  Vienne,  and  there  they  buried  him.    But  the 
old  pines  groaned  upon  the  heights ;  a  fierce  unending  tern- 


PONTIUS    PILATE.  327 

pest  took  up  its  dwelling  there,  and  nothing  was  heard  but 
the  continual  roar  of  winds  and  crash  of  falling  trees,  and 
sound  of  torrents  swollen  past  all  bounds,  and  the  noise  of 
falling  masses  of  rock,  loosened  by  the  blast. 

Then  the  people  dug  up  the  carcase  and  cast  it  into  the 
Rhone,  but  the  Rhone  grew  furious,  and  Charlemagne,  the 
Emperor,  ordered  the  accursed  clay  to  be  carried  to  Lau- 
sanne :  and  when  Lausanne  could  not  keep  it,  it  was  brought 
here  to  this  mountain. 

Here  he  held  horrible  orgies,  with  Caiaphas,  Judas^ 
Herod  and  troops  of  fiends.  It  was  an  awful  punishment* 
only  to  be  united ;  but  sometimes  they  forgot  "their  anguish 
to  torture  some  poor  wayfarer. 

Terrible  was  the  passage  of  the  mountain  to  such  a  one. 
Sometimes  the  most  dolorous  and  heart-piercing  cries  rung 
in  his  ears,  but  he  could  see  nothing.  Sometimes  invisible 
arms  caught  him  up  and  whirled  him  through  the  air  and 
dashed  him  down  into  crevices  and  chasms  of  the  rocks. 

Such  was  the  state  of  things,  till  once  a  holy  monk 
passed  by  that  way — one  of  those  olden  pious  men  whose 
lives  were  toil  and  prayer — and  at  the  desire  of  the  people 
he  went  to  exorcise  the  mountain.  All  night  he  rested  there, 
wrestling  for  the  mastery ;  and  a  wild  storm  seemed  to  shake 
the  mountain  till  day  began  to  dawn. 

Then  all  grew  calm.  The  monk  had  cast  the  fiend  into 
the  black  lake,  where  he  lies  at  present.  But  whosoever 
shall  insult  him  by  casting  anything  into  the  lake,  gives  him 


328  PYNNSHUKST. 

his  ancient  power  for  a  moment,  and  if  in  mortal  sin,  is 
destroyed  by  him. 

Such  is  the  legend  of  the  mountaineer.  A  wild  un- 
founded legend  it  may  be,  but  it  can  teach  the  willing 
learner  this  lesson,  that  there  is  no  peace  for  guilt  but  in 
penitence;  that  remorse  cannot  hide  from  itself;  that  there 
is  no  stain  so  foul  as  the  stain  of  innocent  blood ;  that  man 
has  no  power  so  mighty  as  the  power  of  prayer. 


IX. 

GEN  E  vi  EVE. 

FANCY,  gentle  reader,  and  I  write  for  no  other,  fancy  our 
dear  Hugh  coming  out  of  the  Schweitzerhofs  Salle  a 
manger. 

"  What  had  he  done  there,  Sir  ?" 

"  What  had  he  done,  Miss  ?  He  had  done  an  omelette 
and  an  enormous  slice  of  buttered  toast,  and  two  cups  of 
strong  coffee  and  a  petit  verre  de  Cognac,  and  was  now 
coming  out  to  do  a  cigar." 

"  Quelle  horreur !  the  sensualist !" 

"  You  treat  him  properly,  ma'am ;  and  your  sentiments 
may  perhaps  be  the  same  as  those  of  the  party  of  three  at 
the  side  table  yonder,  who  looked  at  him  so  often." 

There  was  a  gentleman  of  some  fifty  years ;  a  lady  of 
—  an  age  that  ladies  never  attain  to,  and  a  younger 
lady  who  must  have  been  a  good-twenty-one-year-old-er. 


330  PYNNSHURST. 

But  what  hair  she  had !  Enough  to  stuff  a  sofa,  only  they 
never  stuff  sofas  with  chestnut  silk  and  sunbeams.  The 
others  paid  attention  to  their  breakfast,  and  high  time  for 
them  to  do  so ;  it  was  eleven  o'clock — the  young  one  only 
looked  at  Pynnshurst. 

"  Are  you  sure,  Genevieve  ?"  said  the  unyounger  lady, 
with  a  mouth  full  of  bread  sopped  in  cafe  au  lait. 

"  Oh,  yes,  it  is  he.  I  know  his  beautiful  forehead,  and 
his  tristes,  thoughtful  eyes.  And  then  his  hair  is  worn 
veiy  peculiarly." 

"  He  looks  a  decent  sort  of  a  young  man,"  said  the 
male.  . 

"  He  looks  a  gentleman,"  said  Genevieve. 

"  I  will  accost  him  after  breakfast,"  said  the  other. 

"  And  as  he  looks  as  if  he  were  going  to  smoke,"  said 
she,  who  seemed  to  be  his  wife,  "  bring  him  to  us  when  he 
is  re-scented." 

Not  to  be  mysterious,  these  three,  were  M.  le  Comte  and 
Madame  la  Comtesse  de  Saulnes  and  Genevieve  de 
Chateigneraye. 

Hugh  is  marching  up  and  down  the  portico,  havanna  en 
bouche,  when  a  gentleman  doffs  his  hat,  and  bids  him  good 
morning,  demanding  fire  for  his  cigar.  And  so  they  walk 
side  by  side. 

"  What  abominable  weather  !"  said  the  stranger. 

"  Peculiarly  so ;  but  the  good  Lucernois  have,  a  pis  allcr 
in  those  covered  bridges." 


GENEVtEVE.  331 

"  True,  but  any  place,  especially  an  invariable  promenade, 
is  desolate  in  a  rain." 

"  Yes,  we  can  do  no  sight-seeing,  not  even  at  the  moun- 
tain. Have  you  been  upon  Pilate  ?" 

"  No." 

"  Ah,  you  should  go." 

"  Can  one  take  ladies  ?" 

u  No,  it  is  too  difficult.  The  tender  will  do  better  upon 
Rhigi." 

"  Ah,  we  expect  to  go  there  soon.  You  have  been,  I 
suppose." 

"T>h,  yes,  twice,  and  nearly  lost  my  life  once;  nearly 
gave  another  name  to  that  catalogue  of  Anglais  who 
annually  break  their  necks  in  Switzerland." 

"  But  you !  Are  you  English  ?  from  your  accent  you 
must  have  resided  long  in  France." 

"  You  compliment  like  a  French  gentleman ;  I  was  in 
Paris  just  one  month." 

"  You  surprise  me.     "Were  you  sick  in  the  Channel  I" 

"  Not  in  the  least ;  we  had  delicious  weather." 

"  And  what  did  you  think  of  your  old  possession, 
Calais  ?" 

"  I  never  saw  it ;  we  came  to  the  Havre." 

"  To  the  Havre  !  A  droll  accident  happened  there  to  a 
young  friend  of  mine.  She  caught  her  shawl  in  a  car-door, 
and  would  have  been  killed  but  for  the  prompt  interposition 
of  a  young  traveller,  who  saved  her." 


332  PYNNSHURST. 

w  Indeed !"  said  Hugh  Pynnshurst. 

"  And  since,  she  can  speak  of  nothing  but  his  kindness." 

"  She  is  grateful,"  said  Hugh. 

"  She  magnifies  him  over  all  Crichtons,  Bayards,  and  du 
Guesclins." 

"  A  young  lady's  romance,"  said  the  Wanderer. 

"  She  is  here ;  she  thinks  to  have  recognized  the 
traveller." 

Hugh  began  to  get  red. 

."  She  is  sure  that  you  are  he." 

"  I  was  fortunate  enough  to  render  such  a  service  to  a 
young  French  lady  at  the  Havre,"  said  Hugh. 

"  Well,  come,  and  be  presented  to  her  in  form,"  said  the 
other.  I  call  myself  Count  de  Saulnes  and  Genevieve  is 
travelling  with  my  wife  and  me.  Your  cigar  is  finished,  so 
come  here  to  your  heroine." 

So  the  cigars  are  thrown  away,  and  they  enter  the  big 
granite  portal  and  climb  two  flights  of  the  broad  granite 
stairs,  and  M.  le  Comte  knocks  at  the  door  of  what  they  call 
a  lake  room,  and  a  voice  feminine  says, 

"  Entrez? 

And  they  enter.  Pynnshurst  recognises  the  lady  who 
fainted  in  the  car,  and  makes  a  low  bow  to  her  before  going 
to  seat  himself  beside  Madame  de  Saulnes. 

"  Void,"  she  said,  "  notre  hero.'1'' 

"  Yes,"  he  answered,  "  have  I  not  the  heroic  air  ?" 

"  No,  not  the  modern,  you  would  have  more  of  it  if  you 


OENEVIEVE.  333 

wore  spectacles,  looked  conceited,  and  smelled  of  new  news- 
papers." 

"  All  your  heroes  then  are  journalists  ?" 

"  No,  not  mine,  but  the  modern  heroes.  The  plume,  you 
know,  is  greater  than  the  sword.  I  read  that  now  in  all  the 
journals ;  what  do  you  think  it  means  ?" 

"  That  the  pen  is  more  brutal  than  the  sword,  with  less 
danger  to  its  wielder." 

"  Genevieve  told  me  that  you  talked  epigrams." 

"  She  was  very  good  to  recollect  how  I  talked." 

"  She  could  not  very  well  help  it  after  the  service  you  had 
rendered  her." 

M  When  do  you  go  to  the  Rhigi  ?"  asked  Pynnshurst. 

"  Genevieve,  ma  chere,  viens  id"  said  Madame  de  Saulnes : 
and  when  she  had  obeyed,  Madame  left  her  to  talk  to 
Pynnshurst,  and  taking  her  husband's  arm  drew  him  into  a 
corner. 

"  May  I  thank  you  for  my  preservation  without  awaking 
the  pride  of  that  very  haughty  mouth  and  forehead  ?"  said  a 
low,  sweet  voice  beside  Pynnshurst. 

Hugh  looked  earnestly  at  the  speaker. 

"  Yes,  thank  me,"  he  said,  "  you  cannot  offer  me  money." 

"  Are  you  Lucifer  ?" 

"  No  ;  although  very  handsome,  I  am  not  quite  beautiful 
enough  to  pass  for  the  '  Son  of  the  Morning.'  " 

He  answered  so  gravely  that  she  smiled,  but  continued 
gravely, 


334  PYNNSHURST. 

"  Would  you  think  it  necessary  to  say  an  epigram  if  I 
thanked  you  for  picking  up  my  handkerchief?" 

"  No." 

"  Do  you  esteem  my  life  of  less  value  than  that  ?" 

"  No,  thank  me." 

"  Well  then,  I  do  thank  you  from  my  heart,  less  for  your 
actual  saving  of  my  life  than  for  your  gentle,  brotherly 
kindness  during  the  rest  of  our  journey  together.  I  needed 
kindness." 

"  You  were  in  mourning,  were  you  not  ?" 

"  Yes,  for  a  dear  brother ;  and  I  had  gone  with  a  second, 
the  last  of  our  family,  to  Havre  ;  there  he  was  knocked 
down  and  injured  by  a  cart.  And  I  dared  to  go  to  Paris 
alone,  that  I  might  send  at  once  the  surgeons  who  might 
not  have  gone  for  a  letter." 

"  And  did  you  save  your  brother  2" 

"  No,  I  am  the  last  of  my  race." 

"  And  I  too,"  he  said  sadly,  and  looking  up,  he  confronted 
a  pair  of  large,  rich,  brown,  velvety  eyes. 

They  talked  an  hour  and  a  half. 


X. 

A    SHORT    CHAPTER. 

Two  weeks  upon  the  lake,  boating,  riding,  sight-seeing 
with  Genevieve. 


XL 


ROSENBERG. 

"  So  we  go  to  the  Rhigi  this  morning.     What  a  glorious 
day ;  bright  as  one  of  your  smiles,"  said  Hugh. 

"  My  inmost  heart  courtesies  to  you,"  replied  Genevieve. 
"  How  do  we  go  ?" 


336  PYNNSHURST. 

"  On  horseback,  it  was  determined." 

"  Oh,  I  know  that ;  but  how  is  our  party  divided  ?" 

"  Why,  you,  of  course,  go  with  Madame  la  Comtesse." 

"  Of  course,  I  do  no  such  thing.     I  go  with  you." 

"I  say,  Pynnshurst,"  cried  the  Count,  "start  off  with 
Genevieve.  I  dare  not  trust  my  wife  to  you.  She  is  the 
only  one  I've  got." 

"  Take  care  of  the  pence ;  the  pounds  will  take  care  of 
themselves,  is  a  proverb  in  our  country,"  whispered  Hugh. 

"  Impudently  applied,"  said  Genevieve,  "  I  wont  go  with 
you." 

"  Very  well,  let  M.  and  M'de  de  Saulnes  go  alone ;  if  you 
wont  go  with  me,  I  will  stay  with  you." 

"  Can't  I  get  rid  of  you  ?" 

"  Not  easily." 

"  Help  me  on  my  horse  then." 

So  off  they  went  by  Arth  and  Kussnacht,  and  so  towards 
Goldau,  until  rough,  rude,  broken,  the  torn  mass  of  Mount 
Rosenberg  lifted  itself  up. 

"  There  is  a  story  to  that,"  she  said,  "  what  is  it  ?" 

"  I  will  tell  you,"  he  answered,  "  punctually  out  of  the 
guide  book." 

Yonder  where  Rosenberg  lifts  his  torn  head  five  thousand 
feet  above  the  plain,  and  fronts  the  heavens  with  his  friable 
crest ;  yonder,  at  the  foot  of  the  giant,  slept  the  peaceful 
village  of  Goldau.  Daily  there,  rang  the  church  bell  for 
Mass  and  Angelus.  Peaceful  in  their  meekness  lived  the 


ROSENBERG.  337 

quiet  villagers ;  their  joy,  to  marry  their  children,  with  ban- 
nered processions  and  sweet  flower  crowns ;  their  greatest 
sorrow  when  the  pastor  scolded  them. 

When  an  old  man  died  among  them,  it  was  a  ripe  ear 
gathered  to  the  garner  of  God  ;  when  a  little  one  faded  hi 
the  arms  of  the  mother,  it  was  the  Good  Shepherd  who 
took  a  young  lamb  to  his  bosom.  And  over  both  they 
placed  a  cross  and  a  wreath  of  flowers  ;  and  the  flowers  told 
of  hope,  and  the  cross  was  consolation. 

But  one  day  the  mountain  fell ;  and  the  village  was  no 
more.  Now  the  fall  of  the  Rosenberg  happened  on  this 
wise. 

The  summit  and  the  sides  are  composed  of  round  masses 
of  stone  cemented  together  by  a  material  solid  but  yet 
soluble.  Long  and  violent  rains  can  produce  solution ;  and, 
once  the  adhesion  destroyed,  the  mass  descends. 

The  annals  of  the  country  tell  of  large  rocks  thus  falling, 
but  it  was  in  the  old  time  that ;  and  had  been  long  for- 
gotten. 

But  in  1806,  the  summer  had  threatened  a  second 
deluge;  the  rains  were  heavy  and  incessant.  The  huge 
crevices  of  the  mountain  widened,  subterraneous  mutterings 
as  of  sudden  thunders  were  heard,  masses  rolled  down  from 
the  heights,  and  lay  at  the  foot  of  the  mountain.  On  the 
second  day  of  September,  an  enormous  crag  detached  itself 
and  fell,  mid  a  cloud  of  black  dust.  The  earth  trembled, 

yet  the  people  rested. 
15 


338  PYNNSHURST. 

One  man,  cutting  wood  in  his  garden,  was  terrified. 
Then  one  saw  a  huge  crevice  forming  itself  on  the  crest  of 
Rosenberg,  and  widening  visibly.  The  springs  were  dried 
up  suddenly ;  the  pines  in  the  forest  tottered ;  the  birds  fled 
frightened,  with  strange  wild  cries.  Then  the  whole  side 
of  the  mountain  was  seen  to  move  downward,  but  very 
slowly. 

An  old  man  who  had  often  predicted  the  fall,  smoked  his 
pipe  calmly  as  he  watched  it.  A  younger  one  urged  him 
to  escape ;  but  he  said,  "  No,  there  was  time  enough  yet  to 
fill  his  pipe  again."  So  the  young  man  went  on  his  way, 
falling  at  every  few  steps,  for  the  earth  rocked  under  him. 
Once  he  turned  round,  and  saw  that  the  house  where  the 
old  man  was  sitting  had  disappeared.  He  himself  barely 
escaped. 

Another  inhabitant  took  by  the  hands  two  of  his  children, 
and  bade  his  wife  follow  with  the  third.  But  as  she  entered 
the  house  to  seek  the  little  one,  she  met  her  servant  Fran- 
cisca  Ulrich,  holding  the  little  Marianne.  At  the  same 
instant,  as  Francisca  related  afterwards,  the  house  was  de- 
tached from  its  foundation,  and  began  to  roll  over  and  over 
like  a  ball.  Sometimes  the  girl  was  on  her  head,  sometimes 
on  her  feet ;  but  always  in  total  darkness,  and  at  last  she 
was  separated  from  the  infant. 

When  the  movement  of  the  house  ceased,  she  found 
herself  hemmed  in  on  all  sides,  her  head  the  lowest,  and 
covered  with  braises  and  cuts.  She  imagined  herself 


ROSENBERG.  339 

interred  alive  at  a  great  depth,  and  with  much  difficulty- 
managed  to  disengage  her  right  hand,  and  to  wipe  away 
the  blood  which  flowed  from  her  eyes. 

At  this  moment  she  heard  the  cries  of  little  Marianne, 
and  called  to  her.  The  child  replied  that  she  was  on  her 
back,  in  the  midst  of  stones  and  brush-wood,  which  pressed 
her  very  much,  but  that  both  hands  were  free ;  that  she 
saw  the  light  and  even  something  green.  She  asked  if 
somebody  would  not  come  soon  to  help  them  ? 

Francisca  answered,  That  it  was  the  Day  of  Judgment, 
and  that  there  was  nobody  left  to  help  them  ;  but  that  they 
would  soon  be  dead,  and  then  would  go  to  be  happy  in 
Heaven.  So  they  commenced  both  to  recite  their  prayers, 
and  while  so  engaged  the  sound  of  a  church  bell  was  heard, 
and  Francisca,  coming  gradually  to  the  belief  that  the 
whole  earth  was  not  yet  destroyed,  set  herself  to  comfort  the 
infant. 

The  poor  child  complained  bitterly  of  hunger ;  and  the 
servant,  whose  feet  were  highest,  suffered  in  them  the  in- 
tensest  cold.  After  prodigious  efforts,  she  succeeded  in 
disengaging  her  arms,  and  she  thought  that  this  was  what 
saved  her  life.  The  little  Marianne  had  ceased  to  lament, 
and  so  the  awful  night  passed  on  in  silence. 

The  poor  father  had  managed  to  escape  with  one  of  his 
children.  He  wandered  about  all  night,  and  returned  to 
the  scene  of  the  ruins,  to  search  for  the  rest  of  his  family. 
A  foot  sticking  out  amid  the  ruins,  discovered  to  him  his 


340  PYNNSHURST. 

wife.  She  was  dead,  her  infant  in  her  arms.  Then  little 
Marianne  heard  the  noise  of  the  digging,  and  recommenced 
her  cries,  and  so  was  saved ;  one  of  her  legs  was  broken. 

The  poor  Francisca  was  rescued  with  much  difficulty; 
she  remained  blind  for  many  days,  and  was  ever  after 
subject  to  sudden  cries  of  terror.  The  house  had  been 
swept  along  more  than  fifteen  hundred  feet  before  it  was 
crushed. 

An  infant,  two  years  old,  was  found  unwounded  and 
asleep  upon  its  mattrass. 

Such  was  the  mass  of  earth  and  stones  that  rushed  into 
Lake  Lowertz,  six  miles  from  the  Rosenberg,  that  a  wave 
was  raised  so  mighty  and  so  vast,  as  to  sweep  over  the 
island  of  Schwa nau,  seventy  feet  above  the  water  level;  as 
to  inundate  the  opposite  bank,  and  in  returning,  to  draw 
with  it  houses  and  chalets  with  their  unfortunate  residents. 

The  wooden  Chapel  of  Olten  was  carried  half  a  league ; 
in  the  streets  of  Steinen  men  found  still  living  fish. 

And  now  the  sunny  pasture  lands  of  Rosenberg  are  gone, 
and  the  sterile  rock  only  lies  upon  the  site  of  the  Village  of 
Goldau. 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Genevieve,  "  that  was  pretty  well ; 
you  will  of  course  say  a  number  of  beautiful  things  when  we 
are  on  the  Rhigi." 

"  One  at  least." 

"  And  that  one  will  be  P 

"  Genevieve !" 


ROSENBERG.  341 

**  Monsieur !" 

**  Oh,  I  only  meant  Coleridge's  poem ;  listen — 

"  •  The  moonshine  stealing  o'er  the  scene, 
Had  blended  with  the  lights  of  eve  ; 
And  she  was  there,  my  hope,  my  joy, 
My  own,  dear  Genevieve." 

"  Very  sweet,  but  it  is  here  that  we  begin  the  ascent ; 
talk  well,  for  my  horse  fatigues  me." 

£  On  what  subject  shall  I  enlarge  ?  All  are  alike  to  a 
genius  like  mine.  Shall  it  be  botany,  of  which  I  know 
nothing  but  that  the  flowers  have  very  hard  names;  or 
Geology,  which  is  a  very  lively  study  for  ladies  ;  or  Zoology, 
that  I  may  call  you  a  Biman ;  or  Ichthyology,  to  prove  to 
you  that  a  whale  is  not  a  fish ;  or  some  other  ism  or  ology. 
Will  you  have  prose  or  poetry  ?  Rhyme  or  Reason  ?" 

"  Poetry." 

"  Listen  then. 

"  '  One  morn  a  Peri  at  the  gate 
Of  Eden  stood  disconsolate.' n 

u  Oh,  I  know  that  by  heart ;  try  again.' 

" '  O'er  the  glad  waters  of  the  dark  blue  sea.'  " 


342  PYNKSHUEST. 

"  I  prohibit  Byron." 

"'  Well  met,  by  moonlight,  proud  Titania.'  " 

"I  prohibit  Shakspeare." 

" '  Quand  la  mer  rouge  a  pam 
A  la  troupe  noire, 
Pharaon  tout  de  bon  crut 
Qu'il  en  fallait  boire. ' " 

WI  do  not  want  any  French." 

u '  Ein  lustger  Musikannte,  marchirte  am  Nil  ^ 

Da  kroch  aus  dem  Wasser  ein  grosses  Krokodile 
Wer  wolt  'ihn  gar  verschlticken 
Wer  weiss  wie  das  geschah  ?' " 

"I  don't  undei-stand  German." 

"  Listen  then,  Genevieve  !  Genevieve  !  Genevieve  !  Gene- 
vieve !" 

"  There,  that  will  do  for  poetry.  How  careless  this  guide 
is  ;  my  horse  has  stumbled  twice." 

« Shall  I  lead  him  for  you?" 

"  You  cannot,  away  off  there." 

"  Well,  I  will  come  nearer.  Guide,  take  my  horse  ;  I  will 
walk.  Your  horse  ought  to  be  gentle,  he  bears  a  gentle 
burden." 

"  Thank  you  ;  tell  me  about  the  Rhigi." 

So  he  told  her  how  he  had  nearly  perished  there  but  for 
the  interposition  of  God,  and  the  help  of  a  chance  traveller; 


ROSENBERG  343 

and  she  said  that  it  was  her  own  case  at  the  Havre.  And 
then  they  did  not  talk  any  more  for  awhile. 

Silent  and  thoughtful,  on  they  ride ;  their  hearts  are  in 
repose,  they  stop  to  say  a  prayer  beside  Our  Lady  of  the 
Snows.  The  cornfields  nod  upon  the  sides  of  the  eternal 
hill ;  the  gentle  violet  abides  beside  each  falling  rill.  And 
ever  at  their  horses'  feet  the  blue-eyed  gentians  lie,  lurking 
wherever  grass  blades  meet,  fallen  atoms  of  the  sky.  Up  .in 
the  golden  heaven,  the  sun  runneth  his  bright  career. 
The  timid  cloudlets,  one  by  one,  flee  from  his  glittering 
spear.  The  fair  lake  'mid  the  mountains  pent,  gleams  from 
the  circling  sod,  like  the  blue  eye  of  a  penitent,  looking  timid 
up  towards  God. 

In  the  hotel  on  the  summit,  Hugh  read  this  notice  : 

"  Messieurs  the  travellers  are  notified  that  all  who  take 
the  blankets  from  the  beds' to  mount  the  top  of  Rhigi,  must 
pay  ten  batzen  (thirty  cents)." 

Hugh  thinks  the  tax  but  reasonable,  as  early  prome- 
naders  usually  wade  through  much  damp  mist  to  look  at 
the  sunrise. 

When  toilettes  had  been  made,  and  the  party  had  de- 
scended, the  Count  said, 

"  I  suppose  that  you,  Pynnshurst,  will  be  the  first  at  the 
sunrise  in  the  morning." 

"  A  Dieu  ne  plaise,"  said  Pynnshurst. 

"  What,  do  you  not  love  nature  2" 

"  Love   her  ?    yes,  I   would   for  her   sacrifice   anything 


344  PYNNSHURST. 

almost.  I  would  pinch  out  of  her  snuff-box ;  I  would 
lend  her  my  umbrella;  I  would  in  short  do  anything 
for  her  except  get  up  early  in  the  morning.  Also,  what  is 
a  sunrise  ?" 

"  Heretic,"  cried  Genevieve,  "  it  is  all  that  is  beautiful  in 
nature." 

"  Did  you  ever  see  one  ?" 

"  Your  question  is  impertinent,  I  shall  not  reply  to  it." 

"  I  have  seen  several.  You  are  up  at  an  improper  hour  ; 
there  are  no  fires  in  the  house  as  yet ;  a  dowdy  maid  with 
a  mop  and  pail  is  the  only  thing  stirring  in  the  rooms. 
The  front  door  is  open,  and  the  grey  chilly  mist  comes  in 
and  bites  your  very  marrow.  So  you  go  out,  and  wet  your 
slippers  in  the  fields  uncomfortable  with  dew.  In  the 
midst  of  these  abominations,  you  become  sensible  of  a 
round  ball,  like  a  red-globe  oyster  sign,  hung  out  in  the 
Eastern  heavens.  Your  nose  tip  is  frozen  ;  your  eyes 
begin  to  water  ;  your  feet  are  soaked ;  your  teeth  chatter, 
and  the  red  ball  gets  bigger  and  redder,  and  one  small 
sparrow  utters  a  querulous  pee-wheep,  and  tucks  his  foot 
under  his  wing  to  warm  it.  That  is  a  sunrise !  Hang  your 
sunrises !" 

"  What  then  did  you  come  on  the  Rhigi  for  ?" 

"  What  for    for  the  sunsets." 

u  Are  they  so  lovely  ?" 

"  Worthy  of  you  as  a  spectator." 


KOSENBERG.  345 

"  High  praise ;  from  whence  should  I  do  them  the  honor 
to  regard  them  ?" 

"If  you  will  trust  to  my  guidance,  I  will  lead  you. 
Come  madame,  come  Count." 

"  Not  I,"  cried  Mde.  do  Saulnes,  "  I  am  weary  enough  for 
one  day." 

"  And  I  also,"  said  the  husband,  "  go ;  you  and  Gene- 
vieve." 


xn. 

NOTHING    BUT    A    KNOT    OF    RIBBON. 

So  the  two  passed  a  half  hour,  gazing  on  the  Rhigi 
panorama  in  the  golden  light  of  the  sunset. 

"Beautiful  as  immortality,"  said  Hugh. 

"  Tremble  si  je  t'immortalise." 

"  J'  immortalise  le  malheur,"  replied  Genevieve. 

"  Who  says  that  ?"  he  asked. 

"  Count  Alfred  de  Vigny,"  she  replied. 

"  Ah,  a  pet  of  mine.     Do  you  like  Cinq  Mars  ?" 

"Yes,  but  still  more  Eloa." 

"  I  do  not  know  it." 

"  It  is  a  woman  Angel  whose  soul  is  aU.  pity.  The  beau- 
tiful, outcast  Angel  of  the  Morning  Star  meets  her  on  the 
confines  of  heaven,  and  tempts  her  through  her  pity  to  love 
him." 

"And  then?" 


NOTHING    BUT    A    KNOT    OF    RIBBON.  347 

"  And  then  she  falls.  She  is  all  pity,  '  she  was  created,' 
says  the  poet, '  from  the  tear  that  Jesus  wept  for  Lazarus.'" 

"  The  idea  is  very  beautiful ;  the  verses  you  quoted ;  Are 
they  from  Eloa «" 

"  No,  they  are  from  Le  Malheur." 

"  Ah,"  said  Hugh,  "  it  is  commoner  than  pity.  Please 
repeat  them." 

"  I  will  give  them  to  you,"  she  said ;  "  have  you  a  morsel 
of  paper  or  a  card  ?" 

"  Yes,  and  a  pencil  in  the  bargain ;  les  voiqi? 

She  wrote  the  blank  side  of  the  card  full,  and  turned  it  to 
write  on  the  other  side. 

"  Clemence  de  Mortmart !  Are  you  that  Mr.  Pynnshurst  2" 
she  asked,  as  she  turned  it. 

"  Yes,  and  your  slave." 

"  Then  you  know  Clemence  de  Mortmart,"  she  said 
thoughtfully. 

"  Very  well ;  and  you  !" 

"  We  were  bred  at  the  same  convent.  Do  you  not  love 
her?" 

"  As  a  brother,  yes  I" 

"  Only  as  a  brother !" 

"  I  confess  that  it  is  a  fault ;  but  I  repeat,  only  as  a 
brother." 

"  Then  you  are  insensible." 

"  Not  so." 

«  Cold  then." 


348  PYNNBHUR8T. 

"  Would  that  I  were.  But  it  is  as  well ;  men  call  me 
so?" 

"  How  then  did  you  not  lose  your  heart  3" 

"  Clemence  always  seemed  to  me  too  fragile  and  too  pure 
for  human  love." 

"  You  are  right.  You  know  that  she  is  now  a  Sister  of 
Charity  ?" 

"  No,  I  did  not.    We  did  not  correspond." 

"  It  is  true  then  ;  it  was  you  who  nursed  Leon  ?" 

M I  sometimes  helped  his  sister." 

"  You  are  very  good." 

"  I  feel  so  when  near  you." 

"That  answer  comes  from  pride.  You  do  not  h'ke 
strangers  to  praise  you." 

"Pardon  me:  Praise  is  too  rare  for  me  not  to  like  it 
from  any  mouth,  especially  so  sweet  a  one  as  yours.  But 
are  you  a  stranger  ?" 

"  Women  do  not  answer  such  questions ;  you  must 
reply  to  it  yourself." 

"  You  are  not  then." 

"  So  be  it.  We  are  friends.  Some  say  that  it  is  very 
dangerous  for  a  young  man  and  a  young  woman  to  swear 
friendship." 

"  Dangerous  perhaps,"  Hugh  said,  "  for  the  young  man." 

"  Your  compliments  are  very  gracefully  turned  ;  but 
I  would  rather  that  you  would  not  make  them  to  me." 


JfOTHINa    BUT    A    KNOT    OF    RIBBON.  349 

"  The  same  words,"  Hugh  said,  **  which  are  a  compli- 
ment from  one,  are  a  heart-thought  from  another." 

"  Which  are  yours  for  me  ?" 

"  I  will  not  tell  you ;  but  I  wont  compliment  you." 

"  Thank  you.  Why  do  you  press  your  lips  so  straightly 
together  ?" 

"  It  is  a  sign  that  I  am  obstinate." 

"  No,  you  are  only  proud "  she  hesitated  before  she 

added,  "  and  very  sad.  Why  ?" 

"  Si  je  t'immortalise,  j'immortalise  le  malheur,"  he  answered. 

"  Do  you  believe  that  men  were  made  to  be  sad  ?" 

"  No,  they  make  themselves  so." 

"  HOW  r 

"  They  might  be  the  rocks  that  frown  over  the  torrent, 
but  they  choose  to  be  its  bed,  and  it  rends  them." 

"  What  torrent  P 

"  The  torrent  of  their  passions." 

"You  talk  like  a  poet." 

"  I  "am  a  poet." 

"Do  you  write?" 

"  Yes,  verses  ;  but  not  poetry.  It  won't  come  out  of  my 
heart." 

"  That  is  very  pretty ;  how  do  you  know  that  you  don't 
write  poetry  ?" 

"  Because  what  I  write  sends  no  echo  to  my  soul ;  and 
seems  to  take  little  from  it" 

"  Perhaps  you  are  right.     Poetry  is  a  poor  trade." 


350  PYNKSHURST. 

"  Yes,  shoemaking  is  better." 

«  Why  is  it  so  ?" 

"  Because  the  spirit  of  trade  is  now  the  great  spirit  of  the 
world  ;  because  poetry  appeals  to  the  heart,  and  hearts  are 
merchandise  now-a-days  ;  they  sell  them  as  they  do  other 
things." 

A  change  passed  over  her  face ;  passed,  I  say. 

"  You  speak  bitter  truth,"  she  said,  "  but  hearts  we  are 
told,  and  poetry  are  empty  stuff." 

"  So  tradesmen  say,"  he  answered,  "  but  they  lie." 

"  Why  do  you  not  tell  them  so  in  books  ?" 

"  It  is  not  my  mission." 

"  What  then  is  your  mission  ?" 

"  I  do  not  know.     I  suppose  that  it  is  to  suffer." 

"  Do  you  not  make  your  own  sufferings  ?" 

"  Some  of  them,  but  they  are,  therefore,  only  the  more 
bitter." 

"How  so?" 

"  Because  in  a  sorrow  which  comes  from  some  external 
source  we  have  our  imaginations  to  aid  us  to  bear  it ; 
but  when  imagination  makes  the  grief,  there  is  no  com- 
forter." 

"  I  am  afraid  you  speak  truth ;  but  our  guides  do  not 
know  it." 

"  No,  they  tell  one  that  he  is  morbid.  That  may  be, 
but  to  tell  him  so  is  a  poor  remedy  for  his  morbidness." 

"  We  are  talking  sadly,  let  us  be  gayer." 


NOTHING    BUT    A    KNOT    OF    RIBBON.  351 

"  I  cannot,  unless  I  be  foolish ;  and  I  do  not  want  to  be 
so  now." 

"  Shall  we  be  silent  then  ?" 

"Yes,  for  awhile." 

And  they  were  silent,  and  side  by  side  sate  there  looking 
upon  the  exquisite  panorama.  And  then  the  great  sun 
sank  slowly,  and  the  clouds  fled  before  him.  They  rolled 
high  up,  in  floating  wreaths  of  mist,  and  vanished  in  the 
azure  deeps  of  heaven.  And  the  roseate  glory  brightened 
the  horizon.  And  the  song  of  birds  arose.  And  the  green 
was  bright  upon  the  herbage ;  and  the  snow  patches  shone 
upon  the  mountains. 

And  the  two  sate  silent. 

Then  a  glorious  cloud  city  built  itself  in  the  west,  of  gold 
and  purple,  rich  crimson  and  green.  And  while  they 
looked,  a  light  breeze  touched  it,  and  it  crumbled  and 
passed  away. 

"  Ruined,"  sighed  Genevieve. 

"  Every  thing  lovely  is  loveliest  in  ruin." 

"  That  is  very  foolishly  said,  and  you  don't  believe  it ; 
why  did  you  say  it  ?" 

"  I  do  not  know ;  for  I  do  not  believe  it.  But  I  do 
really  love  ruins  very  much." 

"  Why  do  you  love  ruins  ?" 

"  We  have  this  proverb,  'A  fellow  feeling  makes  us  won- 
drous kind.' " 

"  Are  von  a  ruin  then  ?" 


352  FYNNSHURST. 

"  Pardon  me !  my  quotation  was  rather  false  Byronic  and 
sentimental." 

"  Don't  be  proud,  please.     What  did  you  mean  ?" 

"  Frankly  then  4  I  have  suffered  a  good  deal." 

"  Irremediably  so  ?"  she  asked. 

He  paused  a  moment  ere  he  answered,  "  No,  I  think 
not." 

"  Then  you  are  not  a  ruin.  And  now  answer  my  ques- 
tion." 

"  Why,  I  love  ruins.  Because  I  feel  poetically,  and  ruins 
are  poetic.  I  love  the  past,  think  it  less  erroneous,  and  very 
much  more  reverent  than  the  present." 

"  You  like  reverence  ?" 

"  Yes,  I  do  not  consider  the  Blmana,  a  man  if  he  lacks 
reverence  and  affection." 

"  Which  would  you  rather  be,  loved  or  respected  ?" 

"Loved." 

"Which  would  you  rather  give,  love  or  respect?" 

"  They  are  twins,  they  should  never  be  separated." 

"  Could  you  love  anybody  that  you  did  not  respect  ?" 

"No;  but  I  could  love  when  all  the  world  refused 
respect." 

"Were  you  ever  in  love  ?" 

"Ever  since  the  age  of  six,  when  Martha  Mills  broke 
my  heart  into  flinders." 

"  That  means  that  you  will  not  answer  my  question  ; 
but  it  was  rather  impertinent." 


NOTHING    BUT    A    KNOT    OF    RIBBON,  353 

"  You  ought  to  be  fined." 

"  Well,  impose  the  fine ;  I  will  pay  it." 

"  Give  me  that  knot  of  ribbon  at  your  collar." 

"  No,"  she  said,  reddening  and  keeping  her  eyes  down. 

"  But  you  promised  to  submit  to  my  fine.  Do  you  not 
keep  your  promises  ?  It  is  nothing  but  a  knot  of  ribbon." 

"  I  do  not  keep  all,  I  fear  "  and  she  sighed. 

"  Please,  keep  this  one." 

"  Must  I  give  it  as  a  fine  ?" 

"  No  ;  as  a  gift — as  a  pledge." 

"  As  a  pledge  of  what  ?" 

"  I  won't  tell  you  ;  please  give  me  the  ribbon." 

"  Here,  take  it.     Let  us  go  back  to  the  hotel." 

The  small  white  hand  extended  the  ribbon,  and  he 
bowed  till  his  lips  touched  it ;  then  they  walked  silently  to 
the  inn.  He  had  it,  but  after  all,  it  was  nothing  but  a  knot 
of  ribbon. 


xm. 

OUR    LADY    OF    THE   HERMITS. 

THAT  same  funny  little  steamboat,  with  the  same  funny 
commander,  in  anchor  buttons,  which  had  brought  Hugh 
from  Flueln  to  Lucerne,  now  waited  to  conduct  him  and  his 
companions  from  Lucerne  to  Schwytz.  For  they  had  returned 
to  the  Catholic  city  from  the  Rhigi.  They  were  all  going, 
Genevieve  and  all ;  and  low-bodied,  ruddy-nosed  porters, 
bore  numerous  parcels  upon  their  backs,  to  the  steamboat. 

So  they  look  at  the  mountains,  talk  of  the  lake,  historically, 
Swiss-patriotically,  scientifically,  poetically,  sentimentally,  and 
in  a  variety  of  other  ways  and  "  allies,"  during  some  three 
quarters  of  an  hour. 

"  What  is  that  ?"  cried  Madame,  pointing  to  the  shore. 

"  That  is  Altstadt,  my  dear,"  said  her  husband. 

"  But  I  don't  mean  the  place,  I  mean  that  thing  like  a 


OUR  LADY  OF  THE  HERMITS.  355 

\voinan,  with,  its  hair  torn  off  the  forehead  and  strained  into 
two  preposterously  long  tails." 

"That,  Madame,"  Hugh  answered,  "is  a  Schweitzer 
maiden  in  her  national  costume." 

"  She  could  change  it  for  the  better,"  said  the  Parisienne. 
"  What  is  that  huge  mass  there  ?" 

"  That  is  the  boatman's  barometer.  When  the  clouds 
lift  themselves  o'er  that  torn  crest,  bad  weather  cometh 
near ;  when  they  lie  still  upon  the  rugged  breast,  the  morn- 
ing will  be  clear." 

"'Hat  der  Pilatus  Hut,  so  istdas  Wetter  gut, 
Hat  der  Pilatus  Degen,  so  gibt  es  Regen.'  " 

"  And  DOW  if  you  turn  your  head  and  look  yonder  over 
Kussnacht,  you  will  see  the  ruins  of  Nevv-Habsbourg,  the 
residence  of  the  imperial  Counts." 

"  And  how  come  you  to  know  all  these  places  ?" 

"  Oh  !  thanks  to  a  good  deal  of  wandering  about ;  to  much 
asking  of  questions,  and  to  diligent  reading  of  my  guide 
book,  I  am  become  quite  a  cicerone." 

"  What  pray,  then,  do  you  know  about  Brunnen  ?  It  is 
there  that  we  leave  the  steamer,  is  it  not  ?" 

"  Yes ;  and  I  know  nothing  of  it  except  that  from  thence 
we  take  the  diligence  to  Schwytz.  And  now,  see,  here  we 
are ;  and  here,  I  suppose,  begins  our  pilgrimage." 

Then  the  diligence  carries  them  to  Schwytz,  where  they 
look  at  the  droll  h'ttle  chapel  built  in  three  days  while  the 


356  PYNKSHURST. 

country  was  under  interdict;  and  at  the  bright,  grand 
modern  church,  where  a  glorious  organ  was  rolling  floods  of 
melody,  through  the  pointed  arches  to  the  altar  foot. 

Then  from  Schwytz  they  pass  on  to  Rotherthurm,  where 
a  road  branches  off  at  right  angles  towards  the  Shrine  of 
our  Lady  of  Hermits.  All  along  the  road  they  see  groups 
of  poorer  pilgrims.  Here,  a  son  conducts  a  bed-ridden 
mother  in  a  little  cart ;  there,  a  poor  cripple  hurples  on 
with  difficulty,  muttering  his  prayers ;  he  may  have  come 
all  the  way  from  France.  Troops  of  school  children  from 
the  neighboring  villages  move  on  chanting  hymns;  and, 
yonder,  with  her  rosary  in  her  hands,  that  weary,  way-worn 
young  mother  is  carrying  her  thin,  white  little  baby  to 
pray  for  it  to  the  Mother  of  Pity. 

In  an  hour  they  rattle  through  a  curiously-paved  street ; 
where  the  shop-windows  are  full  of  crosses,  rosaries,  sacred 
pictures,  medals,  and  prayer-books,  but  contain  nothing  of  a 
worldly  tendency  except  sugar-plums. 

They  wheel  round  a  corner,  and  find  themselves  suddenly 
in  an  enormous  square,  with  a  fourteen-mouthed  fountain  in 
the  centre,  and  there  before  them  stands  the  antique 
Abbey,  divinatus  consecrata. 

All  are  very  quiet  and  talk  little.  Hugh  is  so,  for  it  is  a 
deeply  devout  nature,  his  ;  and  the  others  are  so,  for  they 
remember  that  this  is  a  time  when  France  needs  many 
prayers. 

They  can  see,  on  looking  out  of  the  windows,  an  enormous 


OUR  LA2Y  OF  THE  HERMITS.  357 

court,  enclosed  by  rows  of  the  very  smallest  shops  that  have 
ever  been  known.  In  the  centre  is  the  fountain,  with  four- 
teen mouths,  whereon  "  the  Virgin  Mother  holds  the  God- 
born  child."  In  front  an  immense  flight  of  steps,  statue- 
lined  and  balustraded,  conduct  to  the  huge  platform 
whereon  the  Abbey  stands. 

It  is  a  mighty  Italian  building,  the  church  in  the  centre  , 
and  the  wings  comprising  a  chapel  of  St.  Mary  Magdalene, 
the  apartments  of  the  Benedictine  brethren,  a  seminary,  an 
enormous  library,  and  the  offices.  There  now  rules  Domi- 
nus  Abbas,  Henricus  IV.  And  the  brethren  merit  the 
reputation  of  the  Benedictines  for  learning  and  protection 
of  literature. 

Behind  the  burnished  cupolas,  and  statue-bordered  roofs, 
you  see  the  wooded  hills  of  Schwartz,  and  further  on,  the 
Alps  of  Appenzell. 

Here,  in  A.  D.  805,  Meiurad,  of  the  illustrious  house  of 
Hohenzollern,  came  to  reside,  when  he  resolved  to  exchange 
the  empty  glories  of  the  world,  for  peaceful  contemplation 
and  prayer  in  the  solitudes. 

Here  he  built  his  little  hermitage,  amid  the  solemn  wilds 
where  nature  only  spoke  of  God.  Here  he  was  visited  by 
the  poor,  the  suffering,  and  the  needy,  and  none  who  came 
went  away  uncomforted.  He  made  friends  of  the  great 
mountains,  the  waters,  the  green  forests  of  tall  pines,  and 
not  only  of  them,  but  also  of  the  little  animals  which  dwelt 
in  his  neighborhood ;  the  birds  came  to  be  fed  by  his  hands, 


358  PTNNSHURST. 

and  two  crows,  shyest  of  the  feathered  race,  became  quite 
domesticated  with  him. 

But  his  relief  of  the  poor  had  given  rise  to  the  idea  that 
he  had  money  in  his  poor  dwelling-place,  and  two  wretches 
were  found  who  determined  to  murder  him.  The  murder 
was  accomplished,  and  the  assassins  fled  to  Zurich  ;  but 
were  traced,  it  is  said,  by  the  two  crows,  which,  flying  before 
the  officers  of  justice,  pursued  the  miserable  men,  stained  by 
holy  and  innocent  blood.  They  were  taxed  with  their 
crime,  confessed  it,  and  expiated  it  with  their  blood. 

In  the  arms  of  the  Abbey,  two  crows  occupy  the  dexter 
base  of  the  shield. 

Hildegarde,  Queen  of  Germany,  had  built  for  Meinrad  a 
chapel,  and  had  enriched  it  with  an  image  of  the  Holy 
Virgin ;  but  after  Meinrad's  death,  his  hermitage  rested 
vacant,  and  the  neighborhood  was  only  trodden  by  the  feet 
of  the  many  pilgrims  who  came  to  honor  the  memory  of 
St.  Meinrad. 

Among  them,  in  907,  came  Bennon,  son  of  Raoul,  King 
of  Burgundy  ;  and  he,  with  some  companions,  founded  here 
the  first  abbey  under  the  rule  of  St.  Benedict. 

When  the  building  was  finished,  and  St.  Conrad,  Bishop 
of  Constance,  came  to  consecrate  it,  he  was  forbidden  by  a 
vision  to  accomplish  the  ceremony,  the  Saviour  himself 
announcing  that  lie  had  blessed  the  temple  built  in  honor 
of  Himself  and  of  His  mother.  Therefore  the  temple  bea:s 
this  legend,  Divinitus  Consecrata. 


OUR  LADY  OF  THE  HERMITS.  359 

Here  every  crowned  king  and  most  of  the  great 
barons  of  Europe,  were  wont  to  pilgrimage  until  the  Re- 
formation. But  to  this  day  200,000  Catholics  come 
every  year  to  pay  their  vows  before  this  shrine,  so  holy 
and  so  renowned. 

And  now  our  voyagers  are  ready  to  enter  it.     They  have 

•>ught  at  the  humble,  little  shops  whatsoever  they  desire  to 

have  blessed;  and  already  the  voices  of  the  brethren  are 

intoning  the  Magnificat,  and  the  Evensong  is  nearly  at  an  end. 

They  enter  and  kneel  near  the  portal.  Far  away  amid 
the  distant  arches,  up  to  the  painted  domes,  through  the  rich 
columns,  floats  the  melodious  chant.  Organ  and  sweet 
human  voices,  utter  the  words  of  the  sacred  scriptures  with 
blended  harmonies,  and  swelling  notes,  that  rise  and  fall  in 
that  vast  pile,  as  solemn  oceans  rise  and  fall  in  the  world, 
which  is  also  a  solemn  temple  of  the  most  High  God. 

When  the  vespers  are  over,  they  examine  the  vast  church. 
Immediately  in  front  of  them  is  the  holy  chapel,  wherein  is 
the  image  of  the  Virgin.  Ten  altars,  along  the  sides  of  tho 
aisles,  are  enriched  with  entire  bodies  of  the  saints  of  long 
ago.  Over  the  grand  altar  is  a  fine  Assumption  by  the 
Suabian  Kraus  ;  on  its  front  is  a  bronze  of  the  Last  Supper. 

The  lateral  church  of  St.  Magdalen,  contains  twenty  four 
confessionals  ;  and  penitents  of  all  languages  may  there  find 
guidance  and  consolation. 

Shall  we  follow  our  voyager  further  in  this  holy  place  ? 
No.  Let  him  pursue  the  dictates  of  his  religion.  To-mor- 
row morning  ho  will  be  ours  again. 


XIV. 

A   FRI&HT. 

IT  is  to-morrow  morning.  The  glad  sun  kisses  the 
bronzed  turrets  of  Our  Lady  of  the  Hermits.  The  early 
Mass  has  been  heard ;  and  all  our  little  troop  are  breakfast- 
ing together,  in  the  Salle-a-manger  of  the  Peacock.  Good 
inn,  kept  by  the  funniest  Dutchman  who  has  ever  been 
ridiculous  on  the  face  of  this  planet. 

O  Martin  Gyr  !  thou  art  a  worthy  creature,  but  thou 
art  equivalent  to  a  slight  attack  of  neuralgia.  When  thou 
unitedst  into  incomprehensible  phrases,  the  forty-seven  French 
words  which  complete  thy  Gallic  vocabulary ;  when  thou 
terminated'st  every  sentence  with  dans  ces  mani&res  la  and 
fanciedst  that  thou  spakest  French ;  when  thou  didst  rol 
thy  goggle-eyes  at  me  ;  did'st  shake  thine  addle-head  ;  did'st 
grin  with  such  effusion  of  imbecility  as  mortal  eye  hath 


A    FRIGHT.  361 

ne'er  till  then  beheld ;  then  O  Martin  Gyr !  I  wrote  thee 
down  in  my  little  note  book,  Host  of  the  Peacock,  and 
most  comical  of  Dutchmen. 

"  How  shall  we  go  to  Rapperschwyll  ?" 

"  There  are  but  two  conveyances,  madame,  one's  own  legs 
and  the  legs  of  a  horse." 

"  I  shall  take  the  latter,"  cried  Madame  de  Saulnes. 

"  Anc  I,"  quoth  her  husband. 

"  I  shall  walk,"  said  Genevieve,  "  it  is  only  three  miles." 

"  I  would  rather  go  with  them,"  whispered  Pynnshurst, 
"  but  for  politeness-sake  I  will  walk  with  you." 

Genevieve  pouted  at  him,  which  seemed  to  please  him 
rather  than  otherwise. 

All  the  world  knows  that  to  go  from  Einsiedeln  to  Rap- 
perschwyll, you  must  cross  the  court  and  turn  off  by  the 
left  of  the  convent.  Then  you  march  on  until  you  come  to 
the  chapel  of  St.  Meinrad,  built  on  the  site  of  the  hermitage 
which  was  the  scene  of  the  murder. 

It  stands  on  a  little  knoll  which  overlooks  a  wooded  val- 
ley, and  is  backed  by  loftier  heights.  It  is  a  plain,  square 
building,  as  simple  within  as  without.  Rude  paintings  on 
the  ceiling  represent  the  life  of  the  holy  hermit. 

Here  they  found  another  party  of  travellers  ;  a  small 
thin  man  with  sparse  wiry  hair,  furiously  on  end  and  inde- 
pendent as  the  citizens  of  a  new  European  republic,  and 
two  lengthy,  strong-looking  ladies,  principally  composed  of 
green  veil  and  tartan  shawl, 
1(5 


862  PYNNSHURST. 

At  the  door  of  the  neighboring  inn  sate  a  weary  looking 
porter  casting  mournful  looks  at  his  baggage  rack,  which 
stood  beside  him  laden  as  if  for  an  elephant  or  at  least  a 
camel. 

"  Bong  jour,  Musheer"  said  the  little  man. 

"  Good  morning,  sir,"  answered  Hugh. 

"  Ah,  you're  English  then,"  continued  the  other  in  a  quick, 
jerking,  positive  sort  of  voice,  "  I  said  so  when  I  saw  you ;  I 
said  to  my  wife,  I'm  positive  he  is  English.  Do  you 
believe  all  that  story  about  the  crows  ?  it's  all  a  humbug,  I'm 
positive." 

"  What  story  about  the  crows  ?"  asked  Hugh. 

"  Them  that  traced  St.  Meinrad's  murderers  you  know. 
I'm  sure  you  have  heard  the  story." 

"  I  do  not  see  anything  improbable  in  it,"  replied  Pynn- 
shurst.  "  Intelligent  attachment  and  resentment  is  suffi- 
ciently common  among  animals  to  make  it  likely  enough." 

"  That's  'very  true,"  said  the  little  man  thoughtfully. 

"  And  then,  you  know,"  said  Hugh,  "  that  the  tradition 
is  a  very  respectable  one,  and  not  so  very  ancient.  And 
there  is  to  this  day  a  hotel  of  the  Crows  at  Zurich." 

"  No,  is  there,  though  ?  an  actual  hotel." 

"  As  actual  as  the  Peacock  at  Einsiedeln  !" 

"  But  the  same  crows !  Meinrad's  crows  !" 

"  Yes." 

"  Why  then  it  must  be  true." 

Here  the  little  man  seemed  to  be  mentally  engaged  in  ,1 


A    FRIGHT.  363 

Sourse  of  ratiocination.  "  Probable  enough,"  he  muttered, 
"  crows  are  very  intelligent  animals — respectable  traditions — 
hotel  at  Zurich.  Sir,"  he  said  to  Hugh,  "  My  dear,"  he 
cried  to  his  wife.  "  It's  all  true  ;  that  about  the  crows,  no 
humbug  about  it.  I'm  positive."  Then  he  turned  to  his 
wife  and  Hugh  heard  him  say,  "  respectable  tradition,"  and 
that  crows  were  very  "  intelligent  animals." 

"  But  I  must  say  good  morning,  Sir,"  said  Pynnshurst. 
"  We  wish  to  reach  the  steamboat  at  two  o'clock." 

"  Oh,  are  you  going  to  Zurich  ?  I  knew  you  were,  as 
soon  as  I  saw  you.  So  am  I !  but  there's  the  steamboat ; 
come,  my  dear.  Here,  you  sir  Porteur,  prencz  les  trunks, 
we  shall  be  too  late  for  the  steamboat,  I  am  positive  we 
shall  be  too  late.  Good  by,  Sir." 

And  away  went  the  little  man,  the  two  ladies,  and  the 
heavily-laden  porter  on  the  road  to  Rapperschwyll. 

During  this  time  Genevieve  had  mounted  the  horse  of 
Madame  de  Saulnes,  and  had  ridden  on  in  front,  so  that  she 
was  hidden  from  the  others  by  a  bend  in  the  road.  Hugh 
gave  his  arm  to  Madame,  and  they  walked  on  together. 
Just  as  they  reached  the  bend,  they  heard  the  quick  clatter 
of  a  horse's  hoof  and  a  scream,  and  as  they  turned  the 
rock,  they  saw  Genevieve's  bonnet  lying  on  the  road,  but  she 
and  her  horse  were  invisible. 

w  Mon  Dieu  f  die  est  perdue  /"  cried  the  Parisienne  ; 
and  Hugh  darted  off  at  full  speed.  No  sooner  had  he 
turned  round  a  second  rock,  however,  than  he  saw  Gene. 


364  PYNNSHURST. 

vieve  quietly  seated  on  her  horse,  laughing  merrily,  and 
returning  at  a  snail's  pace. 

"  Aha !"  she  cried,  "  you  are  a  brave  cavalier  to  let  your 
fair  dame  encounter  unknown  perils  alone.  But  you  were 
frightened,"  she  continued,  as  she  looked  at  him,  and  saw 
how  very  pale  he  was. 

"  Yes,"  he  answered  quietly,  "  I  was  alarmed." 

"  Not  much,  I  suppose ;  as  it  was  only  I  who  ran  the 
risk." 

"  If  it  will  give  you  pleasure,"  he  said,  "  to  know  that  I 
suffered  greatly,  I  will  tell  you  so." 

"  Mais.  Are  you  angry  ?  Do  you  think  it  was  a  child- 
ish trick  which  I  played  to  frighten  you  ?  No ;  it  was 
childish  enough,  but  not  cruel.  But  see  Madame  running  ! 
frightened  out  of  her  Parisian  propriety  !"  And  Genevieve 
put  her  hand  upon  Hugh's  shoulder,  jumped  from  the  horse, 
and  ran  to  be  embraced  by  the  Countess. 

"  Don't  scold,  please,"  she  said.  "  Mr.  Pynnshurst  has 
already  scolded  me.  I  only  wanted  to  see  if  that  venerable 
animal  had  forgotten  how  to  trot,  and  on  his  declining  to 
notice  either  my  chirps  or  my  slaps  with  the  bridle,  I  stuck 
a  pin  in  him.  He  was  so  astonished  that  he  struck  off  at 
once  into  something  intended  for  a  gallop,  and  as  it  appears 
my  hat  ribbons  were  untied,  the  wind  blew  my  bonnet  offi 
and  I  gave  a  little  woman's  scream,  and  frightened  Mr, 
Pynnshurst." 

So  speaking,  she  took  her  bonnet ;  shook  back  a  couple 


* 
A    FRIGHT.  365 

of  curls  that  were  hanging  near  her  eyes,  and  turned  her 
sweet  glowing  face  towards  Pynnshurst ;  with  a  smile  that 
said,  Scold  me  any  more  "  if  you  dare." 

As  she  met  his  steadfast  look,  she  saw  something  in  it 
that  made  the  glow  deepen,  and  cover  all  her  face. 

So  the  party  resumed  its  former  order.  The  de  Saulnes 
mounted  their  beasts,  and  the  younger  couple  walked  along 
beside  them. 

"  You  look  grave,  yet,"  said  Genevieve. 

"  I  was  thinking,"  he  said,  in  a  low  voice,  "  how  utterly 
I  love  you !" 

"  Hush !"  she  answered  quickly,  "  do  not  speak  so. 
Unhappiness  will  come  soon  enough.  Let  us  enjoy  the 
moment.  Do  you  not  know,  then,  that  one  of  my  names  is 
Ida,  and  that  it  is  nearly  impossible  to  kill  an  Ida  ?" 

"  I  did  not  know  it." 

"  Well,  then,  I  will  prove  it  to  you  by  a  legend.  Do 
you  see  that  mountain  yonder  ?" 

"  Yes ;  it  is " 

"  Hush  !  don't  tell  me.  I  want  it  for  the  present  to  be 
in  Canton  Thurgovie ;  it  was  there  that  Saint  Ida  lived. 
Shall  I  tell  you  her  history  ?" 

"  Yes,  please." 


XV. 

IDA   VON    TOGOENBURQ. 

"  WELL,  then,  you  must  know  that  yonder  hills  are  called 
the  Hornli,  on  whose  top  is  the  puissant  castle  of  Toggen- 
burg. 

"  Below  this  mountain  lies  the  Ida-thai,  or  valley  of  Saint 
Ida,  a  mighty  chasm,  rough  and  savage,  but  covered  with 
abundant  vegetation.  This  dell,  like  many  a  church  in  the 
German  cantons,  takes  its  name  from  Ida  von  Kirch- 
berg.  And  this  is  the  story  of  her  life. 

"  Ida  was  bora  about  the  middle  of  the  twelfth  century, 
and  her  parents  spared  no  expense  nor  trouble  for  her  edu- 
cation. The  good  chaplain  taught  her  to  read  and  to  write, 
and  she  copied  more  than  once  the  four  Gospels.  One 
copy,  kept  in  a  case  of  gold,  never  quitted  her.  Her 
mother  taught  her  a  housewife's  accomplishments,  and  in 


IDA   VON   TOGGENBURG.  367 

their  walks  pointed  out  the  plants  that  were  good  for  food 
and  those  that  were  serviceable  for  medicine.  For  the  noble 
lady  in  those  days  must  know  how  to  dress  a  wound  and 
nurse  the  sick. 

"  Beautiful  and  good,  Ida  was  the  idol  of  the  county,  and 
especially  of  Henri,  Count  of  Toggenburg,  who  saw  her  as  he 
came  from  the  tournaments  at  Cologne,  wooed,  won,  and 
bore  her  home,  with  rich  chivalric  pomp,  to  the  castle  of  his 
fathers  on  the  Hornli.  And  there  they  lived  some  years  in 
perfect  union,  with  nothing  to  disturb  their  harmony. 

"  But  their  sorrow  was  at  hand.  One  day  when  she  had 
opened  her  jewel-case  and  wardrobe  for  some  household 
purpose,  a  magpie  flying  in  at  the  open  window,  seized,  as 
was  his  instinct,  a  ruby  ring  and  bore  it  off  to  his  nest.  It 
was  her  wedding  ring,  and  Ida  dared  not  tell  the  Count  of 
its  loss. 

"  Some  weeks  afterward,  a  hunter  of  the  Count's  hearing  a 
wonderful  chattering  in  the  nest,  climbed  up  the  tree, 
unnested  the  little  ones,  and  found  at  the  bottom  the  ring. 
Not  knowing  whose  it  was,  he  slipped  it  on  his  finger  and 
thanked  heaven  for  his  good  fortune.  Arrived  at  the  castle, 
he  displayed  his  treasure,  which  the  domestics  wondered  at, 
though  they  doubted  the  story  of  the  bird's  nest. 

"Now  Wolf  hard  Chamberlain  was  at  deadly  feud  with 
the  hunter,  and  saw  in  the  jewel  a  means  to  destroy  him. 
So  he  went  to  his  lord  and  charged  the  Countess  with  too 


368  PYNNSHURST. 

tender  sentiments  for  the  hunter,  and  offered  as  proof,  that 
she  had  given  him  even  her  wedding  ring. 

"The  Count  had  always  allowed  his  wife  to  think  for 
both,  but  he  was  a  man  of  action ;  fiery  and  proud,  head- 
strong and  fearless.  So  he  sent  for  the  hunter,  tore  the 
ring  from  his  finger,  had  the  poor  fellow  tied  to  the  tail  of 
his  fiercest  steed,  and  lashed  the  animal  from  the  door  of 
the  Castle.  Then  mounting  to  the  chamber  of  his  wife,  he 
treated  her  as  cruelly  as  words  could  do,  and  then  opening 
a  window  that  looked  above  a  precipice,  he  flung  her 
through  it. 

"  But  the  Angel  of  the  Innocent  was  beside  her.  She 
fell  into  a  clump  of  bushes,  and  although  the  height  was 
immense,  she  received  no  harm. 

"  Recovered  from  her  fright,  and  casting  herself  upon  her 
knees,  she  prayed  for  the  pardon  of  her  enemies,  and  then 
vowed  to  retire  from  the  world,  and  give  herself  to  God  in 
solitude. 

"  So  she  followed  the  course  of  a  little  rivulet,  that  ran 
through  the  desolate  defile,  to  empty  its  tribute  into  the 
Murg.  Thick  forests  of  stunted  firs  covered  the  sides  of  the 
ravine ;  the  path  was  rough  with  rugged  stones,  and  the 
green  of  the  woods  was  broken  here  and  there  by  massive 
rocks. 

"  At  last,  after  a  long  and  wearisome  journey,  she  saw  a 
cavern  with  a  low  entrance,  and  determined  to  make  that 
her  home,  if  she  should  find  but  room  enough. 


IDA    VON    TOGGENBURG.  369 

"  She  found  it  sufficiently  roomy  and  began  to  explore  it. 
In  it  she  discovered  two  or  three  earthen  vases,  an  axe,  a 
huge  rusty  knife,  and   some  pieces  of  iron.     In  a  small 
fissure  of  the  side  she  found  a  roll  of  parchment  containing 
the  Psalter,  and  at  the  end,  traced  on  the  wall  with  coal,  a 
cross,  and  these  words  of  the  prophet,  I  will  guide  him  to 
the  desert,  and  there  will  I  speak  unto  his  heart. 
"  From  all  these  marks,  she  concluded  that  the  cave  had 
been  the  residence  of  some  holy  anchorite,  and  the  words 
which  he  had  written  she  received  as  an  oracle. 
"  She  too  determined  to  pass  a  hermit's  life  in  this  lovely 
place,  her  occupation,  prayer  and  meditation ;  her  pleasure, 
the  reading  of  the  Gospels  and  the  Psalter ;  her  sole  com- 
panion, God. 

"  Here  accordingly,  she  passed  nine  years  without  seeing 
any  living  thing,  but  the  birds  and  squirrels,  the  fish  of  the 
rivulet,  and  now  and  then  a  roe.  The  longer  she  remained, 
the  more  she  loved  her  solitude.  Abandoned  to  the  will  of 
Heaven ;  peaceful  in  the  thought  of  her  innocence ;  glad  of 
any  refuge  from  man's  injustice,  she  found  happiness  where 
only  it  resides,  in  holiness. 

"  The  wild  fruits  sustained  her  in  summer ;  roots,  laid  by 
in  early  autumn,  were  her  winter  food,  and  her  drink  was 
from  the  brook.  She  found  honey  in  the  cliffs  of  the  rock ; 
she  caught,  with  netted  osiers,  the  fish,  and  dried  them  in 
the  sun  ;  moss  gave  her  a  bed,  and  she  wove  it  even  into 
coverings.  And  the  birds  and  squirrels  soon  grew  acquainted 
16* 


370  PYNNSHURST. 

with,  and  played  familiarly  about  her,  and  formed  her  guile- 
less society. 

"  But  one  day,  when  in  meditation,  she  heard  the  barking 
of  a  dog,  who  had  caught  sight  of  her.  She  retired  to  her 
cave,  but  was  pursued  by  the  animal,  shortly  followed  by  a 
hunter.  The  latter  addressed  her,  but  receiving  no  answer, 
regarded  her  attentively,  and  despite  of  her  emaciation  and 
strange  clothing,  he  recognized  her,  and  threw  himself  at 
her  feet,  exclaiming, 

" '  O,  my  lady  Countess,  is  it  you  whom  we  have  wept  so 
long  ?' 

"  Seeing  herself  discovered,  she  begged  of  him,  in  whom 
she  recognized  a  servitor  of  her  husband,  to  keep  his  dis- 
covery secret.  But  he  refused  to  promise,  and  departed  to 
tell  the  Count. 

"  The  Count's  remorse  for  his  double  murder  had  been 
horrible  ;  a  new  theft  of  the  magpie  had  proven  the  inno- 
cence of  the  Lady  Ida,  and  he  had  no  repose  by  night  or 
day. 

"  At  the  dawn  of  day,  after  the  return  of  his  hunter,  he 
sought  the  cavern,  and  threw  himself  at  the  feet  of  his 
injured  wife,  demanded  pardon  with  tears,  and  besought  her 
to  return  to  her  place  and  rank.  But  Ida  raised  him  say- 
ing: 

" '  My  lord,  I  have  long  sinco  pardoned  you,  and  now  I 
confirm  my  forgiveness ;  but  I  implore  your  permission  to 
finish  my  life  in  the  solitude.' 


IDA    VON    TOGGENBURG.  371 

"  '  I  am  dead,'  she  said, '  to  the  world.  And  though  you 
have  authority  over  me,  judge  whether  I  have  not  won  the 
right  to  demand  what  I  desire.' 

"  '  Oh,  return,  return,  Ida,'  pleaded  the  count, '  and  I  will 
have  the  chamberlain  burnt  alive.' 

" '  My  lord,'  said  Ida,  '  where  you  would  be  pardoned, 
you  should  pardon.  For  him,  as  well  as  for  you,  I  have 
prayed  before  that  cross,  made  rudely  with  my  own  hands ; 
but  which  has  still  had  power  to  bid  me  say  with  the 
Crucified,  Father,  forgive  them,  they  know  not  what  they 
do.  Send  away  your  chamberlain  from  the  castle,  but  give 
him  wherewithal  to  keep  his  old  age  from  want.' 

" '  But  is  this  all,  Ida  ?' 

"  '  No,  I  have  more  to  ask.  That  you  will  send  me  the 
garments  of  a  Benedictine  religious,  and  that  you  will  build 
me  a  cell  near  the  church  at  Fischingen,  where  I  can  offer 
every  day  my  prayers  for  you  and  for  myself.' 

"  Her  husband,  after  many  useless  attempts  to  change  her 
resolution,  consented  to  her  wish,  and  when  the  cell  was 
builded,  she  took  possession  of  it,  and  passed  her  life  in 
prayer  and  charity,  and  so  went  home  at  last  to  the  rest  of 
the  weary  on  high." 

"  Thank  you  for  your  legend,  which  is  exquisitely  told." 

"  Of  course ;  /  told  it.  What  were  you  and  the  father 
porter  laughing  about  at  Einsiedeln  ?" 

"  At  a  visitor,  who  asked  with  a  sneer,  whether  miracles 
were  still  performed  at  Einsiedeln.  '  Why,  yes,'  said  the 


372  PYNNSHURST. 

father.  '  And  pray,  what  may  be  the  most  notable  of  this 
century  ?'  '  It  is,'  answered  the  monk,  '  that  the  people  of 
this  century  come  hither  to  pray.'  But  we  are  at  the  long 
bridge." 

Long  enough  it  certainly  was,  for  it  crosses  the  lake  of 
Zurich,  from  Lachen  to  Rapperschwyll,  a  distance  of  five 
thousand  feet.  When  they  had  passed  it,  they  met  the  little 
Englishman  who  had  arrived  some  half  an  hour  before 
them. 

"  Too  early  you  see,  sir,  for  the  boat,"  he  cried,  "  but  I 
knew  we  should  be  so.  Posted  along  like  horses ;  porter 
demanded  six  batzen  extra ;  and  after  all,  no  boat  in  sight ; 
but  I  said  so  from  the  first ;  I  was  positive  of  it." 

What  a  beautiful  lake  is  lake  Zurich.  Just  beside  the 
long  bridge  is  the  bright  little  thick-wooded  island  of  ^Eu- 
frau,  asleep  on  the  bosom  of  the  waters.  It  was  here  that 
Zwingle  procured  shelter  for  Ulric  von  Hutton,  the  friend  of 
Martin  Luther ;  Ulric  was  troubadour,  and  gallant  warrior, 
but  his  merits  are  detracted  from,  in  the  eyes  of  some  folks, 
by  a  little  eccentricity.  He  wanted  four  wives  at  a  time. 
So  he  had  to  run  away  from  Germany,  and  came  here  to  die 
and  to  be  buried.  He  was  none  the  worse  Reformer 
because  of  his  eccentricity. 

Along  the  shores  lie  bright,  white  villages,  basking  in  the 
sun.  The  Zurich  gondolas  with  fluttering  awnings  and  high 
curved  prows  float  gaily  about,  the  fishermen  ply  their 
trade,  and  the  voyagers,  grouped  upon  the  little  dock,  gaze 


IDA    VON    TOGGKXBURG.  373 

at  the  prospect,  chatter  or  yawn,  while  there  below  the 
snorting  little  steamboat  comes  puffing  along,  furrowing  the 
still  waters  of  the  lake.  As  it  comes,  a  big  white  crane 
rises  slowly  and  flaps  himself  away  to  the  reedy  shores  at 
the  south. 

And  so  they  go  to  Zurich  in  the  Republikanner. 


BOOK    VI. 

AND    LAST. 
OONTAININ8  ALL  80BT8  OF  MATTERS,  AND  THB  END. 


J'ai  jet6  ma  vie  aux  delices, 
Moi-meme  credule  a  ma  joie ; 
J1  enlvre  mon  coeur,  je  me  noia 
Anx  torrents  d'un  riant  orgueil ; — 
Mais,  le  malheor,  (levant  ma  face 
A  pass6  ;  le  rire  s'  efface, 
Et  mon  front  a  reprit  son  deiU_ 


ALFRED  DE  VIOWY. 


ZlJRI  OH. 

I  THANK  my  stars  that  I  have  arrived  at  the  last  book  of 
this  present  manuscript.  Perhaps  it  would  have  been  better 
had  I  not  commenced  the  first ;  perhaps  it  wouldn't.  On 
the  credit  of  the  last  hypothesis,  or  shadow  of  hypothesis, 
let  it  go  forth.  There  is  a  purpose  in  it,  even  in  its  folly. 
If  you  find  it  out,  follow  it ;  for  my  part  I  devote  my  present 
time  to  some  gossip  with  myself  about  Zurich. 


As  I  never  saw  Venice,  and  as  I  never  expect  to  see  it,  I 
have  a  mania  for  comparing  other  cities  to  it.  Wherever  I 
see  considerable  or  more  water,  I  say,  "  that  is  Venetian."  I 
love  to  call  New  York  the  Venice  of  the  West ;  I  call  a 
village  on  a  duck  pond,  the  Venice  of  private  life. 


378  PYNNSHURST. 

Am  I  alone  in  this  fervor  ?  If  so,  I  am  original,  and 
originality  is  so  rare  a  quality  at  present,  that  its  possession 
may  excuse  my  other  faults,  if  I  have  any,  which  is  very 
doubtful  in  my  judgment,  and  in  that  of  my  old  nurse 
Nanny  Macbride,  to  whom  I  have  read  portions  of  this 
work.  Good  old  creature,  what  a  pity  it  is  that  she  is 
deaf. 

As  you  come  nigh  Zurich,  you  are  struck  with  its  very 
decided  picturesquely  or  ism,  I  am  not  sure  which  is  bet- 
ter. Highest  of  all  is  the  old  Norman  tenth  centuiy  cathe- 
dral, which  has  some  good  stained  glass,  and  a  pulpit  from 
which  Ulrich  Zuingle  preached  the  Reformation. 

A  very  long  quai  is  lined  with  gondolas,  whose  striped 
blue,  red,  and  white  awnings  do  what  young  poets  call, 
"  glitter  in  the  beam."  That  means,  they  look  bright  when 
the  sun  shines.  To  the  left  hand  you  see  the  spire  of  St. 
Peter's  whose  pastor  was  the  physiognomist  Lavater,  and 
which,  with  the  old  arsenal,  and  the  ancient  Dominican  con- 
vent, form  the  only  buildings  which  are  worth  twice  looking 
at  in  Zurich. 

It  was  in  this  same  convent,  you  know,  that  the  first  Eng- 
lish Bible,  by  Miles  Coverdale,  was  printed  ;  and  since  that, 
it  has  become  the  university ;  about  whose  cabinet,  listen  to 
this  legend. 

Here  until  lately,  was  shown  a  monument  of  conjugal  de- 
votion very  rare  in  our  times. 

A  good  peasant  of  the  neighborhood,  it  is  about  a  cen- 


ZURICH.  379 

tury  since,  had  the  misfortune  to  lose  the  faithful  partner  of 
his  joys  and  sorrows.  Being  very,  very  poor,  he  mourned 
over  his  lot.  Who  would  now  mend  his  clothing  and  keep 
the  house  in  order,  and  earn  some  kreutzers  by  the  spinning 
wheel,  and  soften  poverty  by  her  economy !" 

"  Woe's  me,"  he  thought,  "  what  shall  I  do  ?  She  was  all 
my  fortune,  that  poor  Trudchen ;  and  I  cannot  even  bury 
her,  for  there  is  not  a  batz  in  the  house.  For  the  same 
reason,  she  cannot  be  embalmed,  and  I  cannot  keep  even 
thee,  my  Trudchen,  if  thou  art  not  embalmed.  No,  I  have 
resolved  what  to  do.  I  will  sell  thee  to  Herr  Schimmeltrouk, 
the  surgeon,  and  so  thou  canst  still  contribute  to  the  comfort 
of  thy  faithful  spouse." 

Not  sooner  determined  than  executed ;  the  bargain  was 
made,  and  honest  Hans  retired.  And  the  surgeon,  not 
content  with  the  skeleton,  had  the  skin  tanned  very  neatly. 

But  the  story  got  wind  and  both  were  arrested.  The 
Council  was  divided.  Some  held  it  an  outrage :  others 
deemed  it  excusable  for  the  sake  of  the  interests  of  anato- 
my. The  party  for  acquittal  was  the  strongest,  and  the 
accused  would  have  got  off  scatheless,  but  that  suddenly 
the  women  burst  into  the  hall,  crying  unitedly,  "Justice, 
justice  on  the  monsters!  We  will  not  be  skinned  and 
tanned." 

And  so  the  husband  was  cast  into  prison,  the  surgeon 
smartly  fined  for  the  benefit  of  the  poor,  and  the  leather  of 
the  faithful  Trudchen  suspended  in  the  museum.  But 


380  PYNNSHURST. 

lately  the  people  grew  too  delicate,  and  they  show  the  thing 
no  more. 

When  Charlemagne  was  here,  lodging  in  the  house  of 
Zumloch,  he  ordered  the  erection  of  a  column  in  the  place 
where  the  holy  martyrs  Felix  and  Eegula  were  beheaded. 

"  Place  a  bell,"  said  he,  "  upon  the  top  ;  and  let  the  rope 
be  long  enough  to  touch  the  ground,  and  whosoever  hath  a 
cause  to  be  judged,  let  him  ring  while  I  am  at  dinner,  and  I 
will  rise  from  the  table  to  hear  him  and  to  do  him 
right." 

So  the  column  was  built  and  the  bell  was  hung,  and  on 
the  very  first  day  it  was  stoutly  pulled.  The  Emperor 
despatched  a  page,  to  fetch  the  suppliant,  but  none  was 
visible.  This  thing  occurred  three  times.  Charlemagne 
astonished,  ordered  a  guard  to  be  set,  who  should  keep  strict 
watch  and  discover  the  mysterious  ringer. 

A  little  after  arrived  a  serpent  which  pulled  the  cord,  and 
sounded  the  bell.  When  they  told  this  to  Charlemagne,  he 
rose  from  table  saying. 

"  Well,  man  or  beast,  if  he  claims  my  protection  he  shall 
have  it." 

Arrived  before  the  column,  he  found  the  animal  which 
curbed  itself  in  graceful  salutation,  before  his  Majesty,  and 
glided  off  towards  the  Limmath.  The  monarch  followed 
with  all  his  court,  and  stopping  when  the  serpent  stopped, 
discovered  an  enormous  toad,  who  had  usurped  the  dwelling 
of  the  suppliant.  He  was  soon  expelled,  and  the  rightful 


ZURICH.  381 

proprietor,  after  three  graceful  reverences,  took  possession  of 
his  recovered  domicile. 

The  toad  was  immediately  executed. 

The  next  day,  as  the  Emperor  dined,  the  grateful  serpent 
presented  himself,  leaped  on  the  table,  and  dropped  from 
his  mouth,  upon  a  golden  plate  before  the  monarch,  a  ruby 
of  extraordinary  lustre. 

Struck  with  this  circumstance  Charles  took  a  fancy  to  the 
place ;  builded  the  Wasserkirch  (Water-Church)  upon  the 
spot,  and  gave  the  ruby  to  his  wife. 

But  the  ruby  was  a  talisman,  whoever  had  it  must  be 
loved.  Charles  could  scarcely  bear  to  lose  sight  of  the 
Empress,  and  when  necessarily  separated  from  her,  fell  into 
the  deepest  sadness. 

The  Empress  discovered  the  secret,  and  in  her  last  illness 
concealed  the  stone  under  her  tongue,  fearing  that  it  might 
fall  into  the  hands  of  another  woman,  who  would  so  cause 
her  to  be  forgotten.  So  she  died  and  was  embalmed,  yet 
Charles  would  not  forsake  her  even  then ;  but  in  all  his 
voyages  for  eighteen  years,  he  bore  the  Empress  with  him. 

A  courtier  who  suspected  the  mystery,  was  fortunate 
enough  to  get  possession  of  the  gem,  and  the  next  morning 
her  majesty  the  Empress,  was  buried  with  all  the  honors  of 
royalty.  But  the  poor  courtier  never  had  a  moment's  re- 
pose ;  Charles  could  not  bear  his  absence,  he  gave  him 
half  the  offices  of  the  court,  at  least  all  those  which  kept 
him  constantly  in  the  presence ;  and  the  poor  fellow,  worn 


382  PYNNSHURST. 

out,  emaciated,  half  dead  with  honors  and  the  want  of 
sleep,  flung  the  fair  jewel  into  a  marsh,  and  so  reposed. 

But  the  Emperor  fell  in  love  with  the  marsh ;  not 
Empress  nor  Chevalier  had  been  dearer  to  him.  And  to 
prove  his  great  affection,  he  had  it  drained,  and  built  upon 
the  place  the  city  of  Ait  la  Chapelle,  and  founded  there  a 
glorious  cathedral,  wherein  his  august  bones  still  slumber, 
and  whose  chapter  had  perpetual  alliance  with  their  brethren 
of  the  Zurich  chapter. 

But  Zurich  has  no  chapter  now.  The  old  creed  is  repre- 
sented by  a  pretty  Greek  church,  by  some  seven  hundred 
faithful,  and  by  the  relics  of  antiquity,  which,  with  the  site 
of  the  city,  alone  attract  the  traveller  to  pause  there. 


Hugh  and  M.  de  Saulnes  went  to  the  arsenal,  where  they 
saw  immense  quantities  of  armor,  richly  cleaned  and  bur- 
nished ;  a  suit  of  mail  taken  from  Charles  of  Burgundy,  at 
the  siege  of  Morat,  of  course,  and  numerous  partizans,  bills 
and  bows,  "  all  of  the  ancient  time." 

In  a  glass-case,  is  the  head-piece,  cuirass  and  battle-axe 
with  which  Zuingle  fought,  and  opposite  hangs  the  cross- 
bow with  which  William  Tell  shot  that  apple  from  his 
younker's  head.  There  is  no  taste  in  the  arrangement  of 
the  armory.  All  the  suits  are  heaped  together,  but  are 
nicely  cleaned.  You  would  fancy  that  an  antiquarian  cook 


ZURICH.  383 

maid  had  taken  them  for  pots,  so  well  scoured  are  they. 
In  the  lower  story  of  the  building  are  large  quantities  of 
cannon,  all,  probably,  "  taken  from  Charles  of  Burgundy  at 
the  siege  of  Morat." 

It  was  on  the  site  of  this  old  arsenal  that  Conrad  III.  do 
Sardaigne,  held  the  Imperial  tournament  for  his  master,  the 
Emperor.  And  in  these  days,  when  to  be  rich,  is  to  be  a 
great  man,  at  least  with  us,  in  these  days  of  contempt  for 
dark  ages,  noblesse,  hereditary  gentleness  and  other  follies 
and  mournfulnesses  of  the  same  nature,  Hugh  Pynnshurst, 
fiercest  and  foolishest  of  aristocrats,  offers  these  laws  copied 
from  the  old  tourney  deed  kept  in  the  library  of  Zurich, 
and  written  for  those  robber  barons  of  the  Khine  whom 
we  hate  so  sensibly  and  so  well. 

"Every  noble  of  race,  who  shall  have  said  anything 
against  the  Holy  Faith ;  who  shall  have  spoken  evil  of 
Christendom  or  of  its  chief;  or  betrayed  his  seigneur,  or 
abandoned  him  in  battle  ;  or  ruined  or  defamed  a  maid  or 
wife ;  or  perjured  himself ;  or  abused  his  wife ;  or  robbed 
church  or  chapel,  widow  or  orphan ;  or  struck  an  unoffend- 
ing citizen  ;  or  done  harm  to  his  tenants  or  his  neighbors  by 
violence,  robbery  or  fraud  ;  or  who  is  an  adulterer  ;  or  who 
engages  in  trade,  shall  be  cleared  from  these  lists  by  blows 
of  the  rod." 

Hugh  read  this  aloud  at  night  and  demanded, 

"  Have  we  gained  or  lost  in  losing  the  middle  ages  ?" 

"  Lost,"  said  the  women. 


384  PYNNSHURST. 

"  Humph,"  said  the  Count. 

And  the  "  Humph"  was  as  displeasing  as  the  "  fudge"  of 
Mr.  Burchell  in  the  "Vicar  of  Wakefield." 

Hugh  thought  with  the  women. 

"  But  tell  me,  count,"  said  Hugh,  "  can  you  really  mea- 
sure this  Tyrian  age,  this  age  of  successful  traders  against 
the  old  hero  times." 

"Why,  yes,  and  I  reckon  that  the  present  age  will 
have  the  best  of  the  comparison.  Where  is  it  weaker  ?" 

"  It  has  no  honor." 

"  True,  but  it  has  honesty." 

"  There  is  no  honor  without  honesty ;  there  is  much 
honesty  without  honor.  God  made  the  Beautiful ;  it  is  as 
much  man's  duty  to  encourage  the  Beautiful  as  it  is  to 
defend  the  True ;  for  the  Beautiful  is  the  True." 

"  You  are  an  enthusiast,  mon  cher" 

"  So  is  every  man  with  a  heart." 

"  Perhaps  he  may  be ;  but '  heart'  as  you  call  it,  does  all 
the  harm  nearly  in  the  world.  I  lean  to  the  opinion  of  Sir 
John  Chester  about  heart.  '  It  is  a  lump  of  red  flesh ;'  That 
which  men  call  heart  is  impulse,  passion  enthusiasm, 
dreaminess,  young  folly,  everything,  in  a  word,  that  pro- 
duces sorrow,  and  is  not  common  sense." 

"  I  would  rather  be  a  fool  with  a  heart,  than  a  sage  with- 
out one,"  cried  Genevieve. 

"  My  dear,"  said  the  count,  "  you  are a  woman." 

"  That  is,  a  fool  with  a  heart !  be  it  so." 


ZURICH.  385 

u  My  dear  count,"  said  Hugh,  "  if  I  were  a  tilting  baron 
of  old  time,  I  would  have  you  in  the  lists  for  that ;  if  I  were 
a  modern  Frenchman,  I  would  have  at  you  with  the  small 
sword,  but  being  a  prudent  man,  honoring  trade  and  fearing 
to  be  injured,  I  will  only  reply  to  you  in  words.  This,  then,  I 
say  to  you,  that  you  have  eaten  something  at  dinner  that 
disagreed  with  you." 

"  I  yield,"  said  the  count,  "  that  is,  I  stick  to  my 
opinion." 

"  You  talk  a  great  deal  of  nonsense  to-night,"  said  the 
countess. 

"  It  is  for  you,  my  dear,"  said  the  husband. 

"  And  I,"  said  Genevieve,  "  feel  too  selfishly  to  talk  non- 
sense. I  would  have  the  old  time  back  again,  that  refining 
woman  might  have  her  place  again.  You  say  that  men 
honored  us  too  much  then.  It  was  better  than  to  sell  us 
like  cattle  as  you  do  now." 

"  The  fact  is,"  said  M.  de  Saulnes,  "  that  you  should  all 
have  applied  to  your  heads,  what  was  applied  to  the  feet  of 
Freiheitsknaben." 

"  And  what  might  that  be  ?" 

"  I  am  going  to  tell  you.  You  must  know,  Mesdames, 
that  long  ago  in  the  city  of  Bale,  there  was  a  court  held. 
It  was  in  an  obscure  quarter  of  the  city  called  the  Kohlen- 
berg, or  coal-hill ;  which  was  anciently  inhabited  by  the 
following  respectable  classes  of  society : 

"The  executioner  and  his  assistants;  the  torturers   the 
17 


386  PYNNSHURST. 

cleaners  of  sewers,  all  Jews  and  Turks,  all  buriers  of  those 
who  died  of  the  plague  or  other  pestiferous  diseases,  and  all 
of  nameless  occupations.  Here  they  were  confined  ;  the 
place  was  esteemed  infamous  ;  the  denizens  were  compelled 
to  find  wives  and  husbands  among  each  other,  and  even  the 
courts  of  justice  were  closed  to  them. 

"  But  as  these  worthies  had  their  law-suits  and  processes, 
as  well  as  their  more  respectable  neighbors,  it  was  found 
necessary  to  furnish  them  with  a  tribunal  of  their  own. 

"  Accordingly  a  tribunal,  composed  of  a  president  and 
twelve  assessors,  chosen  from  among  the  lower  working 
classes,  and  called  Freyheitsknaben  (Freedom's  boys),  were 
appointed  to  hear  and  arbitrate  the  disputes  of  the  Kohlen- 
bergians. 

"  In  torn  vestments,  with  the  legs  bare  to  the  knee,  they 
took  their  seats  under  a  huge  linden,  planted  on  the  coal- 
hill,  and  the  president,  armed  with  a  baton,  was  obliged  to 
keep  his  right  foot  in  a  bucket  of  water  until  the  case  had 
been  argued  and  the  decision  announced. 

" '  'the  advocates,  or  the  parties  if  they  happened  to  conduct 
their  own  cause,  were  accommodated  in  like  manner  with  a 
bath,  and  as  the  sittings  were  in  mid-winter,  this  method 
wonderfully  facilitated  the  proceedings  of  the  Court.* 

"  It  was  this  Court  which  in  1570,  condemned  a  hog  to  be 
burnt  alive  for  having  devoured  a  child." 

*  This  practice  is  not  copyrighted ;  but  is  heartily  at  the  service 
of  all  Courts  of  Justice  in  the  United  States.  It  might  be  well  to 
introduce  it  in  Congress 


ZURICH.  387 

"  What  horrors  you  are  talking  ?"  said  Madame  de 
Saulnes,  "  I  must  say  for  you,  my  dear,  that  you  succeed 
perfectly  in  everything  you  undertake ;  you  undertook  to  be 
disagreeable  to  night  n'est  ce  pas  mon  ami  ?" 

"  My  dear,  such  remarks  are  called  in  English  '  floorers !' 

have  done." 

"  And  I  begin,"  said  Genevieve  de  Chataigneraye. 
"  Count  de  Saulnes,  you  have  talked  nonsense,  you  are 
condemned  to  listen  to  sense.  Milor  Pynnshurst,  you  have 
committed  some  crime  or  other,  I  have  forgotten  exactly 
what ;  you  are  condemned  to  read  this  manuscript !"  And 
as  she  spoke,  she  handed  him  a  roll  of  paper.  •*, 

His  eye  glanced  quickly  at  it,  and  then  at  her,  but  she 
was  looking  another  way. 

"  Are  your  commands  definitive  ?"  he  asked. 

"  Like  the  laws  of  the  Modes  and  Persians,"  she 
replied. 

"  I  like  manuscripts  of  an  evening,"  said  the  Count, 
"  they  are  soothing  after  the  day's  fatigue.  My  dear,  do  I 
snore  when  I  sleep  ?" 

"  Come  here,"  said  Madame,  making  room  upon  a  sofa, 
"  and  if  you  sleep  I  will  pinch  you." 

While  they  made  these  arrangements,  Hugh  said  in  a 
whisper,  "  Must  I  really  read  this  aloud  I" 

"  If  you  please,  yes,"  said  Genevieve.  "  It  may  please 
others  as  much  as  it  has  pleased  me." 

"  It  has  pleased  you,  then." 


388  PYNNSHURST. 

She  did  not  answer,  but  she  colored  as  she  felt  that  his 
earnest  eyes  were  fixed  upon  her. 

"  Go  a-ead,  Peensoorst"  said  M.  de  Saulnes,  in  English, 
"  but  don't  be  any  longer  zan  possible." 

"  Read  as  you  wrote  it,  feelingly,"  said  Genevieve,  and 
when  he  dropped  his  eyes  upon  the  paper,  she  fixed 
hers  upon  his  face,  and  kept  them  there  until  he  had  finish- 
ed reading  what  follows  here ; — 


H. 

ME.  PYNNSHUBST'S  POEM. 

I. 

LONE  beside  yon  headlong  torrent, 
Hung  by  fir  trees  dark  and  horrent, 

Where  the  clustering  ivy  droops 
O'er  the  white  and  foaming  current ; 

Where  the  gloomy  owlet  whoops ; — 
By  the  mournful  ruin  there, 
Sate  the  thoughtful  wanderer. 

Moonlight  played  through  crumbling  arches, 

Through  the  yawning  window  frames, 
There  the  thick  and  weeping  larches 

Hung  o'er  half  erased  names 
Fading  fast,  forgotten,  lone, 
Upon  broken  cross  and  stone- 
In  the  planets  silver  gleaming 
Sate  he  there,  not  idly  dreaming, 
But  his  thoughtful  brain  was  swimming 


390  PYNNSHURST. 

With  the  music  of  wild  rhymes 
Of  the  olden  hero  times. 


Yonder  where  the  drooping  willows 

Shade  the  broad  reclaimed  marsh ; — 

Yonder,  where  the  sweeping  billows 
Lift  their  voices,  wild  and  harsh. 

With  the  war  that  ocean  wages ; — 

Yonder  where  the  glacier  pillows 
Its  cold  head  amid  the  snows — 
Cold  as  death,  that  dread  repose ! — 

Up  there,  'mid  the  ice  of  ages, 

Whence  the  mighty  mountain  launches 
Down  the  thundering  avalanches 

On  the  villages  and  vales  ; — 

On  the  tall  crag's  dizzy  ledges, 

Where  the  chamois  hunter  pales ; — 

On  the  precipice's  edges, 

Whence  the  leaping  torrent  rages ; 

'Mid  the  rank  and  steaming  sedges 

On  the  limits  of  the  fen, — 

There  were  bands  of  holy  men 

Who  gave  up  their  earnest  mind 

To  the  bettering  of  their  kind. 

Loving  JESU  and  their  neighbor, 

Living  but  by  prayer  and  labor, 

In  the  days  of  spear  and  sabre, 

When  men  loved  the  minstrel's  rhymes, 

In  the  bye  gone  hero  times ! 


MR.  PYNNSHURST'S  POEM.  391 

When  the  hungry  came  they  fed  him  : 
When  the  pilgrim  strayed  they  led  him 
Right,  and  asked  his  prayers  for  payment ;— 9 

For  the  captive,  consolation, 

For  the  thirsty,  cool  potation, 
For  the  destitute,  -warm  raiment 
Waited  at  the  Convent  door 
Then  the  clay  of  paupers  found 
Rest  in  consecrated  ground. 

For  the  sick  their  love  was  nigh ; 
They  were  piteous  to  the  poor, 

And  their  record  is  on  high ! 

And  with  all,  0  modern  wrathful, 
They  were  not  so  very  slothful ! 
When  the  olden  lore,  forgotten 

In  the  parchment  manuscripts, 
Lay  'mid  dust  and  mildew  rotten 

In  the  damp  unwholesome  crypts 
They  rebrought  it  into  day, 
Washed  the  many  stains  away, 
Copying  every  letter  over 
With  the  patience  of  a  lover 
And  the  wisdom  of  a  sage. 
And,  in  our  conceited  age. 
If  the  whole  world  be  a  college 
Where  each  learns  a  little  knowledge, 

'Tis  that  all  its  hoards  are  drawn 
From  the  wells  of  learning  sunk 
By  some  now  forgotten  monk, 

Slumbering  maybe  'neath  the  lawn, 
Of  a  desecrated  Abbey 


392  PYNNSHURST. 

Called  to-day,  the  Priory, 
Re-established  with  a  shabby 

Mocking  of  the  tracery 
Where  some  holy  architect 

Chiselled  out  the  songa  of  praise 
Which  the  beauteous  columns  decked 

In  the  olden  hero  days. 


Take  your  modern  steam  and  powder ; — 

Steam  inflates  and  powder  raises, 
And  ye  chant  their  praises  louder 

Than  ye  chant  your  Maker's  praises, 
For  on  these  ye  build  your  hopes, 
And  with  these  deceive  the  masses, — 
Take  your  magnifying  glasses ; 

Your  far  sighted  telescopes, 
And  your  air  pumps ;  all  these  came 

By  a  monk  from  whose  old  name 
With  what  power  ye  had,  ye've  taken 
All  the  glory — Roger  Bacon ! 

Yes,  ye  drain  the  juicy  boughs 

And  ye  mock  the  ancient  trunk ; 

Yet  your  modern  honor  flows 
All  from  that  one  idle  monk 

Who  found  time  to  work  and  pray, 
Time  to  chant  the  choral  psalms, 
Time  to  give  the  pauper  alms, 

Time  to  give  you  power  to-dav ' 


MR.  PYNNSHURST'S  POEM.  393 

There  were  vicious,  there  were  idle, 

Too  quick  or  too  slow  to  stir ; 
These,  they  wanted  curb  and  bridle, 

Those  had  need  of  whip  and  spur 
But  the  Many  were  no  lurkers 

By  a  convent's  flattering  board ; 
They  were  very  earnest  workers 

In  the  vineyard  of  the  Lord ! 


n. 


Then  in  every  quaint,  old  city 
There  were  Sisterhoods  of  Pity  : 
Sisterhoods  forever  going 

Through  the  dim  and  winding-street ; 
With  their  dark  robes  meekly  flowing 

To  their  mercy-winged  feet. 
Ever  free  and  open-handed,  ] 
Giving  to  whoe'er  demanded ; 
Searching  out  the  poor  and  needy, 

Yet,  such  very  gentle  judges, 
That  the  idle  and  the  greedy. 

Mingling  with  life's  weary  drudges, 
Found  a  ready  aid  and  speedy. 

Theirs  was  not  the  alms  that  grudges ; 

They  had  slight  discrimination  ; 

Pity  was  their  first  sensation. 
First  they  gave,  and  then  reflected ; 
Left  no  charity  neglected 
Feared  to  send  away  even  any  : 
17* 


394  PYNNSHURST. 

Lest,  'mid  the  unworthy  many 
Loudly  clamoring  at  their  door, 
There  might  be  some  worthy  poor : 
Lest  among  those  asking  aid 
Some  of  God's  lambs  might  have  strayed. 


III. 

Oh,  my  brothers !  as  ye  wander 

Through  the  winding  ways  of  life, 
Hear  the  poet !  stop,  and  ponder 

In  the  pauses  of  your  strife : 
E'er  forcvermore  ye  squander 

All  the  coined  gold  of  life 
On  your  madness ;  pause  and  ponder ! 
In  your  earthquake  revolutions  ; 

In  your  sweeping  reformations ; 
In  your  headlong  blind  ablutions 
Of  the  olden  time's  pollutions  ; 

In  your  overthrow  of  nations  : — 
Stop  !  even  there  amid  the  surges 
Of  your  life  sea,  e'er  it  urges 

You  to  death  upon  its  swell, 
With  its  mournful  sounding  dirges 

Ringing  out  your  funeral  knell, 

Pause  and  think  !    Have  ye  done  well  ? 
Was  it  either  wise  or  holy  ? 
Was  it  not  a  melancholy 
And  a  blind  and  heartless  folly, 
Thus  to  drive  from  town  and  city, 
All  those  Sisterhoods  of  Pity  I 


MR.  PYNNSHURST'S  POEM.  395 

All  that  troop  of  praying  people, 

Who,  in  tempests  as  in  calms 

Ever,  with  uplifted  palms, 
Prayed  amid  the  solemn  booming 
Of  the  bells  that  rocked  the  steeple  ; 

And  amid  their  ceaseless  alms, 

Sent  the  music  of  their  psalms 
Up  to  God  amid  the  fuming 

Of  the  incense  balms ! 
Are  ye  truly  any  better 

For  the  convent  desecrated  ? 

For  the  hospice  desolated  ? 
Have  ye  broken  any  fetter, 
Have  ye  made  man  freer,  better, 

By  the  altar  overthrown  ? 

By  the  grave-yard's  broken  stone  ? 
By  the  down-cast  splintered  cross  ? 
By  the  irreparable  loss 
Of  the  lives  of  countless  poor, 
Dying  at  your  very  door, 
Who  had  been  alive  and  merry, 
In  the  olden  monastery  ? 
Are  ye  better  for  the  severance 

Of  your  lives  from  holy  faith  ? 
Better  for  your  cold  irreverence  ? 

Better  for  your  dread  of  death  .' 
Have  you  fewer  paupers  now  .' 

Is  your  pity  any  deeper 
For  the  poor  Cain's  seared  brow  ? 

Is  the  alms-house  any  cheaper 


396  PYNNSHURST. 

Than  the  hospice  ?  and  are  men 
Gentler  to  the  Magdalen  ? 

Ye  too  have  your  eloquent  preachers ; 
Ye  too  have  your  eager  teachers, 

Who,  to  your  great  heedlessness, 

When  ye  ask  will  answer,  "  yes '." 
But,  my  brothers,  they  are  wrong, 
Hear  my  voice,  though  'tis  a  song 
In  these  acts  of  yours — I  know  it — 

That  your  love  hath  had  no  part '. 
Hear  me — God  hath  given  the  poet 

For  the  teacher  of  your  heart. — 
And  I  tell  you  in  my  burning 
Love  for  you,  and  in  the  yearning 
That  I  have  for  by-gone  times, 
Which  I  chant  in  rudest  rhymes, 
That  ye  merited  not  the  boon 
That  the  time  is  coming  soon, 
But  not  sooner  than  ye  want  it. 
When — as  undeserved  guerdon, 

Ye  will  kneel  and  weeping  pray 
To  the  piteous  God  for  pardon, 

That  ye  drove  these  things  away, 
May  He  grant  it ! 

This  is  one  of  Mr.  Pynnshurst's  "  ways  of  thinking." 


DEL 

RHEINFALI.  . 

"So  you  wont  go  with  me  to  see  the  Rheinfall, 
Genevieve  ?" 

"  No,  we  have  already  seen  it,  and  M.  de  Saulnes  has 
some  business  here  that  will  keep  him." 

"  I  believe  I  wont  go." 

"  Yes,  do  go,  please.  I  would  rather  that  you  should,  and 
you  will  be  absent  but  a  day.  We  wont  forget  you  in  a  day. 

There,  then,  you  are  near  enough.  Well,  if  you  will ! 

You  are  very  impudent ;  good-bye ;  don't  take  cold,  and 
come  back  to-morrow.  These  flowers  ?  For  what  ?  You 
are  very  foolish,  but  take  them. 

"What !  again.    Well,  no  more.    Good-bye." 


398  rYNNSHURST. 

All  alone  in  his  post-chaise.  Hugh  falls  back  and 
examines  himself.  He  is  earnestly  in  love  with  Genevieve 
de  Chateigneraye.  It  is  a  long  while  that  bis  heart  has 
been  searching  happiness ;  he  believes  he  has  found  it. 

His  was  one  of  those  natures  which  crave  woman-love ;  he 
had  often  endeavored  to  destroy  that  nature ;  but  man  can- 
not destroy  what  God  has  made  so  strong.  Repress  it, 
change  it,  soften  passionateness,  calm  enthusiasm,  all  this 
is  possible,  when  self-government  is  perfect ;  but  to  tell  a 
heart  that  yearns  for  a  companion  to  cease  its  yearning  is 
vain.  Unloving  natures  do  not  think  so  ;  loving  ones  do ; 
and  I  write  only  for  them. 

He  kisses  the  flowers.  That  is  nonsense ;  but  all  lovers 
do  so.  He  stops  his  watch.  There  shall  be  no  time  for 
him,  until  he  see  Genevieve  again.  Poor  Hugh  !  "  ce  n'  est 
pas  1'  homme  qui  arrete  le  temps,  c'  est  le  temps  qui  arrete 
1'  homme." 

They  stop  to  change  horses,  and  pretty  peasant  girls, 
coming  from  the  field,  with  their  reaping-hooks  in  their 
hands,  but  less  modest  than  Ruth,  crowd  about  the  post- 
chaise  and  importune  the  young  voyager  for  small  coins. 

"  Guter  Herr,  ein  Schelling,  oder  ein  Kreutzer,  oder 
ein  Bate." 

"  Oder  ein  Kuss ;  nicht  wahr  mein  Kind  ?" 

"  Ja,  Herr,  mit  dem  Kreutzern." 

Then  he  falls  back  and  dreams  again.  First,  boldly, 
then  fearfully,  for  a  Past  full  of  sorrow  comes  before  him, 


RHEINFALL.  399 

and  then  passes  by  him  in  mournful  procession,  the  ghosts 
of  the  long  ago. 

But  he  is  roused  by  chantings,  and  looking  from  the  win- 
dows, he  sees  pilgrims  on  the  road  to  Einsiedeln,  and  poor 
peasants  from  the  Black  Forest ;  the  women  in  red  stockings, 
long  black  cassocks  and  little  velvet  skull  caps.  The  head 
and  body  are  like  those  of  Monsieur  le  Cure,  but  the  legs 
are  the  legs  of  a  cardinal.  They  are  murmuring  the  Vater 
Unser,  and  the  Gegrusset  sey*st  Du,  Maria,  as  they  pass. 

"  The  hills  are  rich  with  fruited  trees 
And  fields  that  promise  corn  and  wine." 

He  learns  that  a  vineyard  may  be  pretty,  but  that,  to  be 
so,  it  must  be  German.  The  vines  untrimmed,  broad  leafed 
and  clustering  together ;  not  so  economic  as  the  French, 
but  richer  in  vegetation  and  really  beautiful.  No  Alps  are 
here,  but  fertile  slopes,  and  sunny  knolls,  budding  up  from 
the  plain,  and  clothed  with  verdure  or  with  golden  grain. 
And  the  blue  that  gleameth  through  the  vineyard's  green, 
'tis  the  blue  of  Father  Rhine. 

They  go  through  Schaflhausen,  quaint  old  town,  upon 
whose  house  fronts,  worn  out  frescoes  tell  stories  of  old  battlo 
fields,  and  the  Hotel  Weber  receives  them  in  its  wide 
opened  arms,  hospitable  at  twenty  francs  per  diem. 

One  passes  through  the  house  out  upon  the  large  perron, 
and  one  recognizes  that  one  is  no  longer  in  Switzerland  but 


400  PYNNSHCRST. 

in  Germany.  All  the  world  is  there,  seated  at  little  tables, 
where  ever  are  fat  beer  jugs  and  tall  dyspeptic  looking  bottles 
of  Rhein-wein  ;  and  people  sitting  at  those  tables,  or 
lounging  over  the  railings  to  look  at  the  fall ;  or  strolling 
up  and  down  talking  about  what  interests  them,  or,  if  they 
have  such  companions  as  I  generally  have,  about  what  don't 
interest  them  at  all. 

Four  statues,  a  handsome  man  for  Asia ;  a  handsome 
woman  for  Europe,  an  "  Injun  Squaw,"  for  America,  and  a 
little  the  most  preposterous  "  nigger"  that,  ever  was  modelled 
in  stucco,  for  Africa,  guard  the  balustrade.  The  good 
Dutchmen  talk  away,  amid  multitudinous  pipe  puffing; 
casting  occasional  wide  smiles  at  the  visible  cataract,  which 
foams  some  thousand  feet  below. 

Two  iron  lions  keep  the  hotel  door  from  which  Hugh 
Pvnnshurst  issued.  He  stqod  there  for  a  moment  observ- 
ant of  the  group.  Two  fat  gentlemen  in  brown  especially 
attracted  his  attention.  They  looked  so  uncommonly  like 
the  brothers  Cheerible  in  Nicholas  Nickleby. 

Also  he  noticed  an  American  gentleman,  who  with  his 
back  turned  to  the  cataract  and  his  chair  tilted  upon  its 
hind  legs,  occupied  himself  in  playing  with  a  bunch  of 
brelogues  at  his  watch  chain,  and  in  puffing  his  cigar-smoke 
through  his  nose.  On  his  face  was  written, 

"  This  Swiss  scenery  ain't  anything.  I'm  an  American 
and  despise  their  furren  waiter/alls,  they're  nothin'  to  our  free 
Niagara." 


RHEINFALL.  401 

Huo-h  took  a  loco-foco  match  from  his  case,  rubbed  it 

O 

gravely  on  the  nose  of  one  of  the  iron  lions,  lighted  a  cigar, 
sate  down  on  the  right  hand  aforesaid  lion,  smoked  and 
looked  at  the  things. 

Immediately  before  him  was  the  Dutchman-sprinkled 
perron.  Several  feet  below,  stretched  pleasure  grounds, 
through  which  winding  pathways  sought  the  shore. 

On  the  left  lay  the  hamlet  of  Neuhausen ;  to  the  right 
thick  woods  bordered  by  vines ;  in  front  across  the  river  the 
very  old  Castle  of  Laufen,  "frowning  o'er  the  wide  and 
winding  Rhine."  And  between  the  brushwood  covered 
banks,  rough  here  and  there  with  rocks,  the  impetuous  flood 
boils  white  and  foamy. 

Some  sixty  feet  is  the  greatest  fall ;  but  a  rapid  above 
and  below  lend  length  to  it,  and  the  foam  continually  form- 
ing and  perishing,  like  human  dreamings  ;  and  the  rainbow 
that  guards  the  cataract,  and  the  hazel  bushes  that  dip  into 
the  water ;  and  the  ripe  fields  of  wheat  so  yellow  on  the 
hills,  and  clustering  vineyards  green  amid  the  corn,  pleased 
poor  Hugh  Pynnshurst  and  he  blessed  the  Almighty  maker 
of  Beauty  that  he  had  made  the  Rhinefall. 

He  descended  and  leaned  over  the  railing.  He  had  an 
asinine  way  of  letting  himself  get  red,  and  permitting  the 
tears  to  corne  in  his  eyes  when  he  looked  upon  Jungfrau's 
and  Rhine  falls ;  and  one  of  the  fat  gentleman  in  brown 
had  been  watching  him,  and  now  the  fat  gentleman  ap- 
proached him  and  said, 


402  PYNNSHURST. 

"  He  is  good,  das  Fall  ?" 

Hugh  turned,  and  saw  a  good  old  face  all  bubbling  up 
with  interest,  and  with  pride  in  the  fall. 

"  Oh  yes,"  he  said,  "  it  was  very  good." 

"  Der  Herr  muss  see  him  when  das  "Wasser  is  much." 

"  Yes,"  Hugh  supposed,  "  that  the  sight  was  finer  then." 

"  A.ch  guter  Gott,  feiner !  der  Herr  speak  good ;  but  I 
mein  brother  shall  tell  which  speaks  rnorer  English  als  I." 

So  off  trotted  the  good  little  German,  and  brought 
back  the  other  fat  gentleman  in  brown,  who  instantly  ad- 
dressed Hugh  as  follows : 

"  Good  bye,  seer ;  you  think  handsome  our  waterfall,  and 
us  like  the  strangers  when  he  does  not,  what  you  say  in 
English,  turn  up  him  nose." 

"  But  can  anybody  doubt  the  great  beauty  of  this  I"  asked 
Hugh  in  German. 

"  Ah,"  cried  both  brothers,  "  you  speak  German  !"  and 
then  the  first  rattled  off  into  a  wilderness  of  all  sorts  of 
words  beginning  with  "  sch,"  and  terminating  in  "  ein,"  or 
"  ich,"  or  "  eicht,"  concluding  by  an  invitation  to  dinner  at 
half  past  two,  and  supper  at  eight,  so  long  as  Hugh  should 
reside  in  the  city. 

Hugh  explained  that  he  must  leave  to-morrow  morning ; 
but  would  they  sup  with  him  at  the  hotel  ? 

One  could,  the  other  could  not ;  and  so  as  the  perron 
had  lost  the  majority  of  its  guests,  and  the  night  began  to 
fall,  the  refuser  quitted  Hugh  with  a  kind  shake  of  the 


RHEINFALL.  403 

hand,  and  orders  to  his  brother  to  please  the  young 
Englander. 

They  supped  quickly,  and  then  went  down  below  the  fall 
to  see  the  lunar  rainbow  and  other  dianic  effects.  All  these 
were  very  pretty,  and  so  they  washed  down  their  supper 
with  a  little  glass  of  kirschenwasser  at  the  cafe  on  the  brink 
of  the  river,  mounted  to  Hotel  Weber,  and  parted  with 
effusion. 

The  prettiest  things  are  the  verdure-covered  patches  of 
rock  in  the  very  midst  of  the  foaming  fall,  whereon  bright 
bushes  and  long  grass  are  nourished  by  the  spray,  and 
shake  their  loose  leaves  into  the  white  waters  at  every 
wind.  From  Hotel  Weber,  when  the  day  is  clear,  one  sees 
the  shadows  or  outlines  of  some  Alps,  and  those,  with 
the  sweet,  bright  sceneiy  around  the  river,  furnish  a  deli- 
cious prospect. 

Comparatively  considering,  Hugh  rather  preferred  the 
Passaic  falls,  but  yet  greatly  admired  the  cataract  of  the 
Rhine  at  Schaff  hausen. 

When  he  got  back  to  Zurich,  which  he  did  by  means  of 
the  meanest  post  system  every  known  in  any  country,  he 
found  a  New  York  newspaper  waiting  for  him.  He  read  it 
carefully  from  "  stem  to  stern,"  but  found  nothing  to  interest 
him,  except  that  an  old  friend  had  written  a  book  ;  and 
that  one  Rev.  John  Gigg  was  explaining  the  Apocalypse. 
The  Rev.  John  advertised  his  seventh  lecture.  The  subject 
was  "  The  Opening  of  the  Seals." 


404  I       PYXNSHUKST. 

Hugh  trusted  that  the  Rev.  John  would  be  clear ;  and 
it  was  agreed  that  if  the  lectures  were  published,  Hugh 
should  purchase  and  send  to  the  count  seven  copies,  for  the 
instruction  of  the  little  de  Saulnes. 


V. 

A   SON  G. 

ZURICH  and  its  lake,  and  the  moon-lighted  Belvidere  of 
Hotel  Bauer ;  the  little  square  park  where  the  Limath  runs 
into  the  lake,  and  the  long  quai-promenade  where  the 
gondolas  wait,  and  the  distant  mountains  are  all  very 
lovely.  And  the  lake  itself  where  your  oarsmen  push* 
you  over  its  sweet  blue  waters,  and  the  curtains  hang  round 
you  screeningly  in  a  gentle  summer  afternoon,  is  the  best 
of  all. 

Rest  upon  thine  oars,  0  waterman  ;  let  the  musical  beat 
of  the  waters  be  heard  against  the  dark,  that  its  sound  may 
mingle  with  the  silver  tones  of  Genevieve's  dear  voice. 

*  Push  is  the  word ;  on  none  of  the  Swiss  lakes  do  they  row  in 
pulling  the  oars  to  them  ;  hut  they  face  the  prow  of  the  hoat  and 
push  the  oars  from  them. 


406  PYNNSHUKST. 

Through  the  opening  of  the  curtains  when  the  light  wind 
waves  there,  gleam  the  white  peaks  and  glaciers  of  the  Alps 
of  Schwytz,  Uri,  and  Glarus,  and  the  white  high  forehead 
of  Apenzell  Sends. 

Sunset  is  not  far  off,  the  clustering  glories  purpling  the 
rich  clouds,  tell  that  the  day  must  die.  That  inimitable, 
gold-varnished  green,  which  belongs  only  to  western  hea- 
vens, deepens  in  the  horizon ;  floods  of  gold  streaked  with 
crimson,  form  the  ocean  where  float  the  "  freighted  clouds  !" 
Shadows  whose  colors  come  from  heaven,  flit  o'er  the  lake 
or  rest  upon  it.  Now  and  then  the  red  perch  leaps  from 
the  waters,  and  falls  in  a  shower  of  sparkling  drops,  back  to 
his  crystal  field. 

From  the  shore  comes  music,  and  out,  far  out  on  the 
lake  that  gay  boat  is  occupied  by  a  brass  band ;  and  all  the 
mingled  sounds,  melting  together,  die  voluptuously  over  the 
blue  sweet  waves. 

"  Sing,  Genevieve !" 

And  in  a  low  sweet  voice,  inaudible  at  a  little  distance, 
but  thrilling  with  its  fluty  sounds  the  soul  of  the  listener 
whose  hands  are  folded  in  her's,  Genevieve  sings  that  pas- 
sionate ballad  of  Heinrich  Heyne's. 

The  purple  sea  gleamed  wide  and  bright 

As  day's  last  glories  shone, 
We  sate  by  the  ancient  fisher-house 

Silent  and  all  alone. 


A   SONG.  407 


The  mists  arose,  the  waters  swelled, 
The  gull  swept  circling  past, 

And  from  thine  eyes,  with  passion  filled, 
The  tears  came  streaming  fast. 

I  saw  them  fall  upon  thy  hand 

And  on  my  knee  I  sank  ; 
And  quick,  from  off  that  white,  white  hand, 

Those  streaming  tears  I  drank. 


Since  then  my  soul  burns  with  desire, 

Desire  consumes  my  years. 
Ah,  thou  wild  heart ;  that  weeping  girl, 

Hath  poisoned  thee  with  her  tears. 

The  melody  of  this  song,  by  Schubert,  was  one  of  those 
which  used  to  go  direct  to  the  heart  of  Hugh  Pynnshurst. 
Genevieve  had  a  rich  contralto  voice,  capable  of  modulation 
the  most  delicate  and  distinct,  as  pure  in  the  lowest  as  clear 
in  the  highest  notes.  And  while  keeping  strictly  to  the 
air,  she  filled  it  with  sweet  inflections,  like  those  which  you 
notice  in  some  notes  of  the  robin,  uttered  with  a  deep  fluty 
sound  like  the  blending  of  two  voices. 

Would  you,  0  young  man,  like  to  change  places  at  this 
moment  with  Hugh  Pynnshurst  ? 

Hugh  neither  sang  nor  played.  He  could  not  talk  wisely 
about  music,  but  he  was  music-mad.  He  never  praised  that 
which  pleased  him,  but  sate  hushed  and  silent  amid  the 


408  PYNNSHURST. 

applauses  of  others,  rocking  the  last  sounds  in  his  heart,  and 
treasuring  the  silver  echoes,  till  the  last  died  slowly  away  in 
the  deeps  of  his  feeling. 

Nothing  delighted  him  more  than  to  collect  and  translate 
for  Genevieve  the  ballads  which  are  so  numerous  through- 
out Germany  and  Rhenish  Switzerland,  andwhich  are  so  full 
of  simple  yet  profound  sentiment.  The  "  Landlady's  little 
Daughter,"  "  the  Last  Shot,"  Uhland's  "  Song  of  Parting," 
"  the  Broken  Ring,"  and  many  another  had  he  taught  his 
darling  to  warble  for  him. 

And  the  still  calm  joy  of  such  an  hour  as  this ;  floating 
on  the  limpid  Zurichsee,  with  the  gorgeous  landscape  round 
him  and  the  sweet  voice  of  a  beloved  woman  thrilling 
his  soul,  paid  him  for  many  past  sorrows;  he  would 
have  purchased  it  willingly  at  the  price  of  many  sorrows  to 
come. 

Peace,  wild  heart!  Buy  not  suffering:  it  will  come 
unbought.  God  will  give  thee  abundantly  until  thou  be 
pure. 

It  bears  a  much  later  date  than  this,  the  poem  that  I  find 
in  his  papers  in  which  he  searches  his  soul  and  its  self- 
deceits,  and  which  concludes  with  a  bitter  truth  which  the 
proud  man  was  too  honorable  to  conceal  from  himself. 

"  I  have  tried  to  banish  the  notion, 

To  drive  the  thought  away ; 
For  it  only  vexes  the  ocean 
Of  pride  that  fills  my  clay. 


A    SONG.  409 


But  ever  sharper  and  rougher 
The  truth  on  my  soul  sinks  in, 

That  I  sin  not  because  I  suffer, 
But  I  suffer  because  I  sin !" 


"  Hugh,"  said  Genevieve,  "  let  us  go  home." 

"  My  home,  Genevieve,  is  where  you  are.  Are  you  not 
content  here  ?" 

"  Yes,  but  it  grows  late." 

"  But  it  is  our  last  night  upon  these  sweet  waters ;  to- 
morrow we  leave  them,  perhaps  forever." 

"  To-morrow  !"  she  said  dreamingly. 

"  Yes,  you  must  rise  preposterously  early  to  go  to 
Baden,  and  by  that  abominable  means  of  travelling,  a  rail- 
road." 

"  I  like  railroads  better,"  said  the  lady  smiling,  "  since  I 
travelled  from  the  Havre  to  Paris.  You  were  my  guardian 
spirit." 

"  I  did  not  know  that  angels  had  any." 

"  They  have  not,  but  I  have,  now  let  us  go  back." 

"  Truants,"  said  Madame  de  Saulnes  when  they  appeared, 
"  you  deserved  both  to  be  whipped.  Was  it  so  very  beau- 
tiful?" 

"  Very,"  said  Pynnshurst,  who  was  thinking  of  Gene- 
vieve. 


18 


VL 

THE   MAN   IN   THE   OMNIBUS. 

OH,  the  embarking  place,  where  one  gets  into  the  omni- 
buses to  go  to  the  cars  !  What  fighting  for  places  ;  what 
appeals  to  the  conductors  ;  what  thumping  and  confusion  of 
box,  coffer,  and  baudbox.  How  eccentric  valises  hide  them- 
selves under  huge  trunks,  and  ridiculous  carpet-bags  vanish 
from  the  hands  of  old  ladies  as  if  by  magic. 

One  gentleman  had  very  much  pleased  Hugh  by  his 
awful  anxiety  about  a  certain  trunk.  Let  us  watch  him 
with  Pynnshurst.  After  much  fussing,  he  thinks  that  he 
recognises  his  trunk  stowed  away  in  the  baggage-wagon, 
and  gets  into  the  vehicle  destined  for  the  live  freight. 

But  lo !  when  the  baggage-wagon  has  got  out  of  sight, 
the  gentleman  sees,  as  he  fancies,  his  trunk  disappearing  in 
the  distance,  borne  on  the  shoulders  of  a  strong  man ;  the 


THE    MAN    IN    THE    OMNIBUS.  411 

gentleman  leaps  from  the  omnibus,  pursues  the  strong  man 
and  commands  him  to  "  put  down  that  trunk." 

Strong  man  refuses. 

Gentleman  insists. 

Strong  man  asks,  "  Why  ?"  Gentleman  says,  "  it  is  my 
trunk."  Strong  man  says,  "it  is  not ;"  gentleman  flies  in  a 
passion  and  says,  "  But  by  thunder  it  is !"  Strong  man 
then  puts  down  the  trunk  ;  gentleman  looks  at  it  and  says, 
''  Oh,  it  is  not  mine." 

"  Confounded  Camel !"  grumbles  the  German  porter,  as 
the  gentleman  rushes  distractedly  back  to  the  omnibus, 
where  the  conductor  is  purple  in  the  face  with  bellowing  for 
him  to  come. 

"  Get  in,  sir !"  says  the  conductor,  taking  him  by  the 
arm.  Gentleman  gets  in,  and  turning,  sees  his  real  trunk 
left,  behind  on  the  ground  ;  makes  a  dart  to  go  out ;  con- 
ductor slams  the  door  to,  crushes  the  gentleman's  hat  over 
his  eyes,  and  knocks  him  staggering  back  upon  a  cross  bur- 
gher's corns. 

Cross  burgher  says  "  camel,"  and  pushes  the  gentleman 
into  the  lap  of  a  fat  lady  opposite,  where  he  crushes  a  basket 
of  confectionery. 

Gentleman  starts  up,  pushes  his  hat  from  before  his  eyes, 
and  begs  fat  lady's  pardon ;  fat  lady  only  looks  at  him 
savagely,  and  at  her  confectionery  piteously,  and  murmurs 
"  Gam-el  /" 

Omnibus  being  full,  the  gentleman  leans  in  a  curbed  posi- 


412 

tion  against  the  doors,  every  jolt  of  the  omnibus  knocking 
his  hat  against  the  roof  and  by  consequence  over  his  eyes  : 
he  takes  off  his  hat,  and  begins  a  smile,  when  a  tremendous 
jolt  bumps  his  head  fiercely  against  the  top  ;  he  puts  it  on 
again,  and  a  second  jolt  buries  him  in  his  beaver  to  the 
chin.  Then  he  curls  himself  still  more  and  more,  and  leans 
back  against  the  door,  just  as  the  driver  pulls  up  his  horses 
with  a  jerk ;  the  conductor  throws  the  door  open,  bellowing 
"Depot,"  and  the  gentleman  disappears  backwards  head 
over  heels. 

What  became  of  him  is  not  known ;  Hugh  never  saw 
him  "  no  more." 

But  Mr.  Pynnshurst  leaves,  for  our  instruction,  this  note. 
"  When  a  German,  at  least  a  Schweitzer,  wishes  to  fulminate 
his  fullest  wrath  against  his  neighbor,  he  calls  him  a 
'  verfluchtiye  Kamecl]  a  cursed  camel.  When  the  French- 
man is  vexed  to  a  certain  degree,  he  says,  syllable  by 
syllable,  '  an-i-mal  /' " 

He  generalizes,  but  the  Deutscher  is  more  accurate  ;  he 
specifies  what  kind  of  animal,  it  is  a  camel. 

The  above  note  is  taken  from  a  work  now  in  press,  en- 
titled, "  All  customs  of  all  countries  carefully  considered  and 
philosophically  analyzed,  by  Hugh  Pynnshurst.  Four 
volumes  in  large  quarto,  with  wood  cuts  and  notes.  Sub- 
scriptions received  by  all  booksellers? 


VII. 

THE    HOUSE    OF    HABSBOURG. 

RATTLETY  thump !  rattlety  thump !  cling  clang  cum 
jiggeldy  rattlety  bump  !  Such  is  the  history  of  the  journey 
by  rail-road  to  Baden,  which  is  a  very  ancient  town  much 
celebrated  for  the  quantity  of  Roman  ruins  which  it 
furnishes. 

The  Limath  waters  it,  and  the  visitors  who  come  to  it,  if 
they  be  so  inclined.  It  is  the  great  bathing  place  of  Switzer- 
land ;  it  is  said  that  no  Swiss  lady  will  accept  a  spouse  un- 
less there  be  in  the  marriage-contract  a  clause  which  entitles 
her  to  visit  Baden  once  in  every  year. 

It  is  therefore  a  sort  of  imitation  Baden-Baden,  where  the 
Swiss,  too  economical  to  go  to  the  grand  Duchy,  meet  and 
wash.  "  Thanks  be  praised,"  that  they  do  wash  once  a  year 
for  fashion's  sake  if  not  for  cleanliness. 


414  PYNNSIIURST. 

Whether  our  voyagers  dipped  or  not,  no  record  doth  re- 
main ;  but  that  they  did  promenade  on  horseback,  ass-back, 
and  on  foot  is  clear,  and  may  be  proved  by  anybody  who 
will  buy  Hugh  Pynnshurst's  manuscripts  for  the  sake  of 
having  the  autograph  at  the  price  designated  by  the  present 
holder  and  possessor. 

For  instance  they  went  to  Habsbourg,  or  rather  to  the 
ruins  of  Habsbourg ;  the  Old  not  the  New ;  the  first  nest 
of  the  imperial  Counts,  not  their  more  modern  possession  ; 
the  place  whence  arose  that  race  which  ruled  the  Holy 
Roman  Empire  and  now  sits  enthroned  on  Austria,  in  the 
person  of  one  of  the  most  promising  Princes  of  Christendom. 

Towards  the  year  1080,  Count  Radbolt  founded  the 
Chateau  of  Habsbourg  on  the  high  hill  yonder.  His 
brother,  the  bishop  Werner,  who  had  furnished  him  with 
means  for  the  construction  of  the  fort,  going  one  day  to  visit 
him,  was  surprised  at  the  small  size  of  the  battlements,  and 
reproached  the  Count. 

During  the  night  the  Count  assembled  his  vassals  and 
ranged  them,  fully  armed,  upon  the  platform,  and  when  the 
bishop  issued  from  his  chamber,  he  saw  a  numerous  and 
well  equipped  force. 

"These,  brother,"  said  the  Count,  "are  living  walls,  for 
which  I  have  employed  your  money  ;  and  these  men,  brave 
and  faithful,  will  prove  for  you  and  me  a  better  guard  than 
any  battlements  of  stone." 


TIIR    HOUSE    OF    HABSBOUKG.  415 

Herein,  I  have  forgotten  when,  an  impoverished  Count, 
Rodolph,  by  name,  held  such  state  as  he  might  with  little 
means.  He,  one  day,  riding  by  a  river,  saw  a  priest  with 
the  viaticum,  standing  wistfully  on  the  brink  without  any 
means  of  crossing. 

"  What  is  the  matter,  father,"  asked  the  Count  ? 

"  My  lord,"  replied  the  priest,  "  a  sick  man  waits  for  me 
on  the  other  side,  and  I  see  neither  boat  nor  ford." 

Kodolph  dismounted. 

"  Take"  said  he,  "  this  horse.  He  has  often  carried  death 
and  desolation  into  the  midst  of  thick  battalions ;  now  let 
him  bear  hope  and  life  to  the  poor  man  who  expects  you.  I 
wait  for  you  here." 

The  Cure  did  not  wait  to  be  twice  invited  ;  but  helped 
by  the  Count,  mounted  the  charger  and  crossed  the  stream. 
Rodolph  watched  him  until  out  of  sight ;  then  with  his 
gauntleted  hand  he  wiped  a  tear  from  his  eye. 

"  Ah,"  said  he,  "  yonder  goes  no  mighty  captain,  nor  rich 
baron;  but  who  among  the  warriors  is  so  glorious,  who 
among  the  powerful  is  so  happy  ?" 

The  Cure  returning,  found  the  Count  sitting  where  he 
left  him.  He  would  have  dismounted  and  returned  the 
horse,  but  Rodolph  said, 

"Keep  him,  father;  he  is  an  old  and  faithful  servant, 
whom  I  would  spare  now  from  the  toils  of  battle.  I  am 
not  rich,  but  I  can  still  afford  to  give  that  alms  to  the  poor 
whom  you  serve.  Only,  do  not  mention  it.  God  will  know 


416  FYXXSHURST. 

it  without  our  speaking  of  it.  Good-day,  father,  and  re- 
member me  when  you  pray." 

They  separated,  the  Cure  blessing  Heaven  for  the  good 
horse ;  Count  Rodolph  walking  on  to  visit  the  Abbey  of 
Fahr. 

There  Sister  Bertha  opened  the  gate  for  him  saying, 

"  My  lord,  the  Emperor,  you  are  welcome." 

"  What  mean  you,  sister  ?"  said  the  Count,  astonished  at 
her  salutation. 

"  I  mean  what  I  say,"  she  said,  "  you  have  done  to-day  a 
noble  action.  Do  not  deny  it ;  for  though  no  one  has  told 
me,  I  know  it ;  and  I  also  know  that  you  have  been  elected 
Prince  and  Master  of  the  Holy  Roman  Empire,  for  God  is  with 
the  just.  Go,  Rodolf  of  Habsbourg,  thou  hast  not  had  shame 
to  help  the  lowly ;  poor,  thou  gavest  alms  ;  baron,  thou 
cherishedst  the  poor.  The  blessing  of  the  Highest  is  upon 
thee." 

And  in  a  few  days  word  came,  indeed,  to  the  Count  that 
the  electors  had  chosen  him  to  fill  the  mighty  throne  which 
represented  the  ancient  seven-hilled  mistress  of  the  world. 

I  might  tell  you  how  they  went  to  Konigsfelden,  or  Kings- 
field,  where  the  Emperor  Albert  was  slain  by  foul  conspiracy. 
I  might  tell  you  what  bloody  vengeance  the  Empress  Agnes 
took ;  and  how  she  built  a  convent  in  atonement  for  her 
cruelty ;  and  how  the  first  monk  to  whom  she  offered  it, 
rejected  it  with  scorn,  saying, 

"  Know,  woman,  that  the  holy  God  loves  not  the  price  of 


THE    HOUSE    OF    HABSBOUKG.  417 

blood.     Go,  repent  thou ;  but  think  not  to  buy  mercy  by 
founding  a  monastery." 

Then,  they  go  to  bed.  And  the  next  day  they  pass  by 
Lenzburg  and  Aarau,  through  fields  where  red-skirted  black- 
bodiced  peasants  were-  reaping  the  bearded  grain  ;  by  way- 
side crosses,  into  the  shadow  of  the  huge  Cathedral  of  St. 
Ursus,  whose  broad  white  marble  steps  and  fountain-decked 
balcony  are  the  glory  of  the  Catholic  City  of  Soleure. 


There  follows  an  unfillable  hiatus  in  Pynnshurst's  notes. 
How  long  he  stayed  in  Soleure  I  know  not ;  how  many 
times  they  mounted  the  famous  Weissenstein,  I  cannot  tell. 
The  next  chapter,  it  is  the  last,  will  show  that  they  mounted 
it  once. 

But  it  is  here  that  I  say  good-bye.  My  editing  work  is 
done.  Ill  done  or  well  done,  I  know  not,  and  cannot  now 
discover.  Believe  me,  I  intended  well.  Read  what  I  have 
gathered  or  let  it  be  ;  I  will  still  say  unto  thee,  Reader,  as 
the  Romans  said  to  their  dead  : 


HAIL  AND  FAREWELL. 


VIII. 

ALICE. 

"  YES,  yes.  1  have  seen  few  things  so  beautiful.  The 
panorama  is  very  like  that  from  the  Rhigi ;  and  if  I  miss 
here  the  wild  lakes  and  wilder  Alps  ;  there  is  a  peace  and 
beauty  in  this  that  repays  me  for  them.  See  how  the  sun- 
light burns  upon  the  spires  of  St.  Ursus,  and  the  church  of 
the  Capuchins  there  below ;  and  off  there,  the  blue  Jura, 
and  here  to  the  left  the  white  Alps,  and  the  Aar  that  looks 
like  a  silver  thread  below  there.  Very  beautiful ;  and  so 
peaceful  and  happy." 

She  spoke  in  a  very  low  voice,  and  lifted  for  an  instant 
her  deep  eyes  to  the  face  of  her  companion. 

"  Yes ;  it  goes  to  the  heart,  a  scene  like  this,"  was  his 
reply,  "  I  feel  it  very  deeply." 

His  voice  was  little  more  than  a  whisper ;  but  she  heard 
it  distinctly. 


ALICE.  419 

So  they  spoke  no  more,  but  stood  silently  side  by  side, 
looking  at  the  scene,  until  the  rest  of  the  party  warned  them 
that  it  was  time  to  descend. 

They  were  the  last  ready ;  perhaps,  that  poor,  little, 
patient,  grey  pony  was  the  most  difficult  of  all  to  mount ; 
certainly  it  took  longer  to  arrange  the  saddle  and  other 
matters,  than  for  all  the  others  put  together ;  and  that  may 
perhaps  be  the  reason  why  they  were  many  yards  behind 
the  others  throughout  the  whole  descent. 

Her  pony  stumbled,  and  he,  walking  at  its  side,  put  his 
arm  round  her  waist  to  support  her ;  and  either  the  way 
was  dangerous,  or  he  was  forgetful,  for  the  arm  rested  there, 
and  the  lon<j  robe  fluttered  against  him  as  he  walked. 

o  o 

Lower  down  the  hill,  when  the  sun  was  nearly  set,  there 
must  have  been  still  more  danger,  for  a  little  hand  was 
resting  upon  his  shoulder. 

But  not  a  word  was  said.  Perhaps  they  were  angry,  and 
pouted  or  sulked  with  each  other.  I  do  not  know.  I  do 
not  understand  those  matters.  I  describe  facts ;  and  I 
know  that  he  trembled  when  the  curls  brushed  his  cheek, 
as  he  lifted  her  from  the  horse,  at  the  door  of  the  hotel. 

I  suppose,  too,  that  she  must  have  been  very  feeble,  as 
she  could  not  mount  the  steps  without  assistance. 

"  Au  revoir"  she  murmured. 

"  You  will  come  down  to-night,  will  you  not  ?" 

"  Yes — but  what  is  the  matter  ?" 

Hugh  Pynnshurst,  for  he  was  the  young  man  whose 


420  PYNNSHURST. 

name  I  so  artfully  concealed  until  now  ;  Hugh  Pynnshurst 
was  staring  in  blank  astonishment  at  a  party  of  strangers, 
who  walked  rapidly  towards  him. 

An  old  gentleman,  hearty  and  hale,  the  nicest-looking 
old  lady  who  has  perhaps  ever  been  revealed  to  mankind, 
and  a  girl  of  twenty,  pale  and  sad-looking,  but  exceedingly 
beautiful. 

To  the  astonishment  of  Genevieve  de  Chateigneraye,  these 
three  came  rapidly  towards  them :  to  her  greater  astonish- 
ment, Pynnshurst  pressed  his  lips  to  a  reddening  cheek  of 
the  beautiful  stranger,  and  begged  the  liberty  to  present  to 
Genevieve, 

Sa  cousine  Madle.  Alice  Comyn. 

I  cannot  praise  the  affectionateness  of  the  reverences  ex- 
changed between  these  two  young  ladies ;  they  were  pro- 
found enough,  but  not  very  loving. 

"  I  suppose,"  said  Genevieve  in  a  low  voice,  "  that  Mr. 
Pynnshurst  will  prefer  to  pass  the  evening  alone  with  his 
cousin,  rather  than  to  be  troubled  by  the  presence  of 
strangers." 

"0  Genevieve!" 

It  was  only  a  whisper ;  but  the  heart  of  the  Frenchwoman 
heard  it ;  and  with  a  somewhat  less  desperate  bow  she  retired. 

"And  you,  Alice,  how,  pray,  came  you  in  the  Canton  of 
Soleure  ?" 

"  Oh,  I  must  travel  as  others  do ;  fashion  is  tyrannical, 
you  know." 


ALICK.  421 

"  Yes,  but  you  were  never  a  very  bumble  slave.  I  would 
like  to  see  you  voyaging,  if  it  would  but  bring  a  little  color 
to  that  sweet  face  of  yours.  Ah,  yes,  a  red  shade  like  that 
becomes  you ;  oh,  if  you  continue  to  blush,  I  shall  con- 
tinue to  say  pretty  things." 

"  Come,  Alice  dear,"  said  the  nice  old  lady,  "  we  have 
some  business  with  our  trunks  that  will  not  brook  delay. 
We  will  return  in  a  few  moments,  and  until  then  the 
Colonel  can  amuse  Mr.  Pynnshurst." 

"  A  bientot  then,"  said  Pynnshurst. 

And  Alice  smiled  "  au  revoir" 

"  And  now,  Colonel,  that  we  are  alone,  let  me  say  to  you, 
that  Alice  is  looking  very  delicate." 

"  It  was  for  that  reason,"  said  Colonel  Schuyler,  "  that  we 
urged  her  to  come  with  us,  My  wife  has  teazed  me  all  my 
life  for  a  trip  to  Europe ;  and  as  we  thought  that  Alice 
really  had  great  need  of  it,  we  persuaded  her  to  come  with 
us." 

"  What  is  the  matter  with  her ;  do  you  know,  Sir  ?" 

"  No  :  I  fancied  consumption.  Dr.  Hubert  feared  that 
the  head  was  affected ;  my  wife  looks  wise,  and  says  little. 
Like  most  women  she  fancies  some  romance ;  some  blighted 
affection,  I  suppose." 

."  An  affection  !"  said  Hugh.  "  I  never  saw  any  signs 
of  it  iu  Cousin  Alice  ?  Is  it  since  I  left  ?" 

"  No  ;  she  has  not  been  in  society  since  you  left ;  she  has 
been  with  us  always,  and  her  greatest  dissipation  was  a 


422  PYNNSIIUR8T. 

game  of  chess  -with  me,  or  whist  when  the  Doctor 
came." 

"  But  I  should  have  chosen  Italy  or  the  South  of  France, 
for  Alice." 

"  So  we  did,  but  she  insisted  on  coming  to  Switzerland 
this  summer ;  perhaps,  she  said,  we  would  meet  you.  And 
accordingly,  after  three  or  four  weeks  in  Paris,  we  came  on 
to  Strasbourg  and  Bale,  where  we  met  the  illustrious 
Mr.  Kipps,  who  gave  us  news  of  you,  and  said  that  your  line 
of  march  was  in  this  direction.  So  here  we  are  ;  and  there 
are  Alice  and  my  wife." 

"  So,  Cousin  Alice,"  said  Hugh,  taking  her  little  hand  in 
his,  "  you  have  seen  your  old  flame  Kipps." 

"  Oh,  yes,  at  Bale,  making  soft  eyes  at  a  pretty  girl  in  a 
glove  store,  who  evidently  fancied  that  his  compliments 
were  demands  for  some  peculiar  kind  of  gloves.  And 
indeed  it  was  very  hard  to  comprehend  his  German." 

"  And  did  he  talk  much  of  his  voyage  ?"  asked  Pynns- 
hurst. 

"  Well,  yes,  he  said  a  great  deal  about  scenery;  but 
confused  it  so  with  his  clothes,  that  I  could  not  make  much 
out  of  it ;  and  I  don't  know  to  this  day  whether  Reichenbach 
is  a  water-fall  or  a  boot-maker ;  whether  grand  Schaideck  is 
a  place,  or  a  new  kind  of  coat." 

"  Poor  Gus ;  his  farewell  to  me  was  characteristic ;  he 
begged  me  to  write  to  him  frequently,  and  to  get  a  grey 
travelling  suit,  for  it  did  not  show  the  dirt.  But  do  you 


ALICE.  423 

know  that  it  makes  me  very  happy  to  see  you,  dear 
Alice  «* 

Alice  colored. 

"  But  there  are  the  de  Saulnes  and  M'dlle  de  Cha- 
teigneraye,"  continued  Hugh.  "  Did  you  ever  see  anything 
so  lovely,  Alice,  as  those  sweet  French  eyes  ?" 

Alice  grew  pale  again. 

Then  the  dinner-bell  rung,  and  both  parties,  now  mutu- 
ally introduced,  went  into  the  Salle  a  manger. 

The  first  edge  of  appetite  being  taken  off,  the  conversa- 
tion began ;  the  Count  seized  upon  Colonel  Schuyler  ;  Mrs. 
Schuyler  talked  landscape,  etc.,  with  the  Countess.  Hugh 
and  Genevieve  murmured  low  music  to  each  other ;  and 
Alice  Comyn  sate  opposite  to  them,  silent,  and  without  the 
appetite  of  a  traveller. 

Once  she  saw  their  hands  touch  each  other,  and  linger 
so,  while  the  color  deepened  on  the  face  of  Genevieve,  and 
her  breath  came  and  went  fast. 

Alice  felt  herself  fainting ;  she  poured  out  a  full  glass  of 
wine,  and  swallowed  it.  Her  motion  attracted  the  atten- 
tion of  her  cousin. 

"  Why,  Alice,"  he  said,  "  you  have  become  quite  a 
tippler !" 

"  I  am  not  strong,"  she  replied  faintly,  "  the  physicians 
have  ordered  me  wine." 

A  look  of  compassion  passed  over  Hugh's  face,  and  then 
he  turned  again  to  Genevieve. 


424  PYNNSHURST. 

"  He  pities  me,"  thought  Alice.  "  Well ;  it  is  better 
than  contempt." 

The  young  girl  was  growing  bitter.  She  must  have 
greatly  suffered ;  for  her  nature  was  the  gentlest  one. 

The  conversation  now  became  more  general ;  routes, 
guides,  vehicles,  wonderful  sights,  organs  that  must  be 
heard,  lakes,  Alps,  and  falls,  that  must  be  seen  ;  adventures 
and  accidents  of  this  year ;  advices  comfortable ;  advices 
economic,  and  all  that  goes  to  make  up  the  conversation  of 
travellers,  occupied  all  our  acquaintances. 

When  they  rose  from  the  table,  Alice  Comyn  went  up  to 
Colonel  Schuyler,  put  her  arm  within  his,  and  said — 

"  See  what  beautiful  moonlight ;  come,  flirt  with  me  in 
the  garden." 

"  I  arn  afraid  to  take  you  out,  my  dear,"  said  the  old 
gentleman,  "  the  Swiss  nights  are  cool." 

"  Yes,  come,"  she  urged,  "  I  drank  a  glass  of  wine  at 
dinner,  and  I  shall  have  headache  soon ;  a  little  milk  will 
cure  me,  maybe." 

"  Wine !  Why  you  are  getting  dissipated.  I  must  keep 
an  eye  on  you  ;  but  come  along,  and  put  your  shawl  over 
your  head  ;  and  about  your  throat." 

They  went  out  of  the  hotel ;  and  once  or  twice  made  the 
tour  of  the  garden. 

"  Well,"  said  the  old  officer  at  last,  "  if  you  call  this  a 
flirtation,  my  dear,  it  is  a  very  silent  one.  You  are  not 
well  to-night." 


ALICE.  425 

"  Not  very,"  she  answered,  "  but  leave  me  here  in  this 
bovver  of  honeysuckles,  and  go  invite  Mrs.  Schuyler  to  join 
us." 

"  I  am  afraid  that  she  wont  come,"  said  the  Colonel.  "  I 
left  her  talking  politics ;  she  is  a  desperate  legitimist,  you 
know,  out  of  opposition  to  me,  I  suppose,  who  am  a  bit  of 
a  republican.  But  obedience  is  man's  first  law,  so  I  will  go. 
Hide  yourself  amid  the  leaves  there,  my  white  rose." 

Alice  entered  the  arbor,  and  crouching  into  a  corner, 
pressed  her  hands  upon  her  heart.  As  the  sound  of  the 
Colonel's  steps  died  away,  she  heard  others  approaching, 
and  then  low  voices.  One  she  recognized,  it  said — 

"  She  is  not  my  cousin,  no  ties  of  blood  unite  us,  but 
brought  up  by  an  aunt  of  mine,  we  have  been  habituated 
from  childhood  to  call  each  other  cousin." 

"  What  has  that  Frenchwoman  to  do  with  me  ?"  thought 
the  concealed  girl,  angrily,  but  the  same  voice  rose 
again. 

"  And  you  love  me,  then,  Genevieve  ?" 

"  Yes  ;"  was  the  low  reply. 

"  And  we  will  never,  never,  part !" 

"  Never." 

"  You  will  go  with  me  to  my  far  home,  yonder  ?" 

"  To  the  end  of  the  world  with  you." 

"  Darling !" 

They  had  stopped  in  front  of  the  arbor.  The  arms  of 
Pynnshurst  were  about  the  waist  of  Genevieve ;  her  dark- 


426  PY.VNSHURST. 

haired  head  rested  on  his  shoulder,  and  the  cold,  bright 
moonlight  passing  through  the  leaves  above  them,  fell  in 
broken  glory  round  the  lovers. 

"  Oh,  Genevieve !  I  have  suffered  so  long  and  so  bitterly. 
I,  in  my  great  loneliness,  wandered  the  world,  with  nothing 
for  my  pining  heart  to  cling  to ;  and  now  it  has  found  a 
refuge  with  thee,  beloved,  and  all  its  yearning  tenderness, 
all  its  abounding  love,  its  deep  and  earnest  fondness,  is  for 
thee.  O,  Genevieve  !  my  happiness  is  greater  than  my 
sorrow  ever  was.  I  was  so  lonely,  darling !" 

Genevieve  answered  not,  but  only  nestled  her  head  closer 
to  his  bosom. 

"  And  in  my  far  home,  there,"  he  continued,  "  we  will 
find,  in  a  southern  clime,  for  thee,  sweet  flower  of  the  South, 
a  rose-trellised  cottage,  beneath  Magnolia  shades,  amid  the 
golden  and  the  purple  bloom  of  flowers  that  never  cease  ; 
and  gentle  Alice  will  live  with  us." 

"  No  !  not  Alice  !"  said  Genevieve. 

Alice  wrang  her  white  fingers,  so  as  not  to  cry  out.  To 
be  rejected,  and  by  her  ! 

"  But  I  love  her  as  a  sister,"  said  Hugh. 

The  tears  rolled  down  silently  in  the  shadows  of  the 
arbor. 

"  I  would  be  alone  with  thee !"  said  Geuevieve. 

The  watcher  saw  the  young  man's  face  bent  downward, 
and  she  knew  that  their  lips  were  pressed  together ;  but 


ALICE.  .  427 

she  only  closed  her  fingers  the  more  closely  and  looked  at 
them. 

In  the  silence  that  followed,  Hugh  Pynnshurst  pictured 
out  his  future.  It  was  a  fair  plantation,  near  the  rich  south- 
ern pine  woods.  One  should  hear  the  rushing  of  a  river, 
from  the  vine  draped  portico,  and  see  the  darting  of  the 
crimson  red  bird,  and  of  the  golden  finch  mid  the  green 
foliage.  In  the  night  time  when  stars  were  in  the  skies, 
they  should  listen  to  the  song  of  the  mocking  bird,  nightin- 
gale of  the  West.  There  were  long  shadowy  glades  in 
those  woodlands,  paved  with  fair  mosses  and  with  violets. 
On  the  white  bark  of  the  maple  he  would  carve  their  names. 
Oh,  what  a  future,  when  that  dear  dark-eyed  Genevieve 
should  be  his  wife. 

Suddenly  they  heard  sounds  near  the  house,  voices  and 
quick  stepping  feet.  Genevieve  fled  like  a  lapwing.  And 
soon  two  gentlemen  came  by  another  path  and  approached 
the  wanderer. 

"  Aha !"  cried  a  gay  voice,  "  sentimentalizing  in  the  moon- 
light, Mr.  Pynnshurst ;  but  come  here,  and  let  me  present 
you  to  M.  le  Marquis  de  Chateigneraye." 

It  was  Count  de  Saulnes  who  spoke ;  as  he  introduced 
Hugh  to  a  tall  white-haired  gentleman  of  about  sixty. 
Hugh  muttered  something  as  he  bowed,  and  wondered  if 
it  were  some  uncle  whom  he  had  to  deal  with. 

"  M.  le  Count  de  Saulnes  has  told  me,"  so  spoke  the  old 


428  PYNNSHtJRST. 

Marquis,  "  that  it  is  you  who  were  so  kind  to  my  wife,  last 
year!" 

"  Your  wife  !  M.  le  Marquis !" 

"  Yes  ;  and  I  have  come  to  thank  you  even  before  seeing 
her." 

"  Monsieur  is  the  husband  of  our  Genevieve !"  said  the 
Count  in  an  explanatory  way. 

"  And  must  go  to  see  his  wife,"  added  the  Marquis 
laughing,  "  I  trust  to  see  you  in  a  few  minutes  in  the  din- 
ing room.  But  at  present  I  leave  you  to  finish  your  prom- 
enade ;  young  men  can  always  find  amusement  in  moon- 
lighted gardens." 

The  two  Frenchmen  walked  away.  For  one  or  two 
minutes  there  was  silence ;  then  the  thrilled  Alice  heard 
these  words, 

"  Married !  My  God !  My  punishment  is  greater  than  I 
can  bear !"  Then  there  was  a  fall  upon  the  gravel  walk. 

And  the  young  girl  came  out  from  beneath  the  vine 
leaves,  and  knelt  down  beside  her  cousin ;  and  took  his  head 
in  her  hands  murmuring  like  a  mother : 

"  It  is  I,  Hugh,  Alice  !  Hush  !  I  know  all ;  take  courage ; 
be  strong  and  brave !" 

One  moment  he  rested  in  that  position ;  then  rose  and 
took  the  hands  of  the  young  girl  in  his. 

"  I  am  strong  and  brave  now,"  he  said.  "  Alice,  I  thought 
my  heart  was  utterly  withered ;  and  she  warmed  it  into  life 
again.  And  I  loved  her  as  /  love !  I  must  go  away, 


ALICE.  429 

Alice ;  tonight :  I  do  not  wish  to  see  any  one ;  you  will 
say  adieu  for  me.  Good  bye,  Alice.  I  do  not  suffer.  It  is 
all  passed  now ;  the  pain  was  but  for  an  instant.  I  do  not 
suffer !" 

He  kissed  the  white  cheek,  and  walked  away ;  and  the 
young  girl  looked  after  him,  and  saw  by  that  erected  head, 
and  firm,  strong  tread,  that  his  awful  pride  had  renewed  pos- 
session of  him  ;  and  then  he  was  hidden  amid  the  bushes 
and  shrubs  of  the  garden. 

Alice  went  back  into  the  arbor :  and  here  came  Colonel 
Schuyler  and  his  wife. 

"  I  had  hard  work  to  make  her  come,  Alice,"  he  said,  "  she 
gets  obstinate  in  her  old  age ;  I  think  I  must  change  her  for 
a  new  one,  hey  ?" 

"  Are  you  ill,  my  dear  ?"  said  the  old  lady  ;  "  you  look  as 
white  and  frail  as  the  rays  of  the  moonlight  themselves." 

"  Yes,  I  am  quite  unwell,  I  think  I  had  better  go  to  my 
room." 

So  they  mounted  together,  and  the  old  lady  would  have 
remained  with  her ;  would  have  gotten  remedies  for  her ; 
would  have  placed  her  in  bed,  and  smoothed  the  pillows  for 
her,  but  Alice  begged  to  be  left  alone ;  and  would  take 
nothing  but  the  good-night  kiss  and  the  blessing  of  her 
friend. 


430  PYNNSHURST. 

Hugh  paid  his  bill ;  ordered  his  luggage  to  be  sent  to 
Strasbourg  ;  and  mounted  to  his  room.  About  nine  o'clock 
he  came  out,  and  as  he  passed  through  the  hall,  just  beneath 
the  chandelier,  he  met  the  Marquis  and  his  wife. 

The  face  of  Genevieve  was  like  ashes. 

"  I  will  see  you  below  in  a  minute,"  said  the  Marquis, 
''  we  must  have  a  glass  of  wine  together." 

Hugh  excused  himself.  He  was  obliged  to  leave  sud- 
denly on  business ;  to-night  even.  He  knew  that  Genevieve 
had  raised  her  head  and  that  she  was  looking  at  him  as 
he  said  this :  and  for  the  last  time  he  turned  his  eyes  upon 
hers. 

Large,  dark,  dilated  in  their  superb  beauty,  they  glowed 
upon  him  from  that  white,  white  face.  The  look  was  not 
one  of  affection :  it  was  one  of  idiocy ! 

He  bowed,  and  passed  on  to  the  staircase.  He  had 
descended  perhaps  five  steps,  when  he  heard  her  fall.  But 
he  did  not  turn ;  only  staggered  for  a  moment  and  so  went 
on.  Down  the  stairs ;  out  of  the  door  ;  and  soon  beneath 
the  stars,  out  on  the  dusty  road.  In  two  hours  he  was  at 
Soleure. 

It  was  a  vigil,  the  lamp  of  the  Sanctuary  was  burning  in 
St.  Ursus,  and  going  in,  he  passed  to  a  sombre  corner,  and 
kneeled  down,  and  placed  his  face  between  his  hands.  And 
there  he  passed  the  night. 


ALICE.  431 

In  the  hotel  which  he  had  left,  night  brought  its  usual 
consequences.  Silence  took  the  place  of  bustle  ;  light 
after  light  was  extinguished  and  the  doors  were  closed. 

One  light  was  burning  still ;  it  burnt  all  through  the 
night. 

It  was  in  a  chamber,  well  enough  furnished,  and  the 
candle  stood  upon  a  centre  table,  whereon  were  a  variety  of 
things.  Ameng  others,  an  open  Book,  opened  at  the  History 
of  Christ's  Passion.  The  grains  of  a  rosary  were  on  it ;  but 
the  cross  was  pressed  between  the  white  hands  of  a  young 
girl,  and  her  face,  bowed  upon  the  sacred  sign,  lay  upon 
the  table.  Long  rich  hair,  broken  from  its  bonds,  streamed 
over  her  shoulders,  over  the  book,  over  the  table.  You 
would  have  thought  that  she  slept,  only  that  now  and  then, 
a  low  quivering  sob,  proved  that  she  watched  and  sorrowed. 
Yes  ;  it  was  not  consumption  that  she  had ;  perhaps  the 
doctor  was  right;  it  may  have  been  an  affection  of  the 
heart. 

Poor  Alice ! 


THE    END. 


N.  P.  WILLIS^  SELECT  WORKS,  IN  TOFORM  i2MO.  VOLS. 

RURAL  LETTERS,  AND  OTHER  RECORDS  OF  THOUGHTS  AT 

LEISURE,  embracing  Letters  from  under  a  Bridge,  Open  Air  Musings  in  the  Cityf 


ERRATA. 

TITI.K  i-AGE-for  "  lizez-jai"  read  "  lizez.    Jm  " 
Page  21,  line  2,  for  "la  Havre,"  read  "  le  Havre  ' 
Page  34,  line  7,  for  "it  was  time,"  read  »  it  was  the  first  time." 
i  48,  line  C,  for  "  covers"  read  "  courts.'' 

Page  96,  line  9,  for  "Julia"  read  "Julie." 

Page  127,  line  3,  for  "  ;  under"  read  ",  and." 

Page  185,  line  10,  for  "  off,"  read  "  of." 

Page  15S,  line  l,for  "shot"  read  "shut." 

I'age  191,  line  12,  for  "habir  read  "habe" 

PSd<<n!?  *'  for"Si6'Si6'"  ™*  "3i*>  **,»  and  line  3,  for  "its' 

Page  193,  line  10,  for  "cold"  read  "coat." 

Page  205,  line  1,  for  "loves"  read  "loaves  " 

Page  239,  line  3  from  bottom,  for  "  milder"  read  "  wilder  '• 

I'age  24S,  line  5,  for  "  too"  read  « two." 

Page  840,  line  G,  for  "  cries"  read  "  crises." 

Page  310,  lines  4  and  5  should  form  but  one  line 

400,  line  2,  for  "  ,-here  ever"  read  "whereon"  and  line  5  from 
bottom  for  '•  Ircloguef  read  « Ireloques? 
Page  4"5,  line  2  from  bottom,  for  "dark"  read  -bark." 


HURRYGRAPH5,' 

By  N.  P.  WILLS. 

"  Some  of  the  best  specimens  of  Mr.  Willis's  prose,  we  think,  are  herein  contained."— 
N.  ¥.  Eoangdiat. 

"  In  the  present  volume,  which  is  filled  with  all  sorts  of  enticements,  we  prefer  th« 
descriptions  of  nature  to  the  sketches  of  character,  and  the  dusty  road-Bide  grows  delight- 
ful under  the  touches  of  Willis's  blossoming-dropping  pen;  and  when  we  come  to  the 
mountain  and  lake,  it  is  like  revelling  in  all  the  fragrant  odors  of  Paradise."— Boston  Atlas. 

PENCILINGS  BY  THE  WAY.— A  Newand  Bevise4 Edition.     ByN.  P.  WU.LW 
1  vol.,  l'2mo. 


N.  P.  WILLIS'S  SELECT  WORKS,  IN  UNIFORM  22MO.  VOLS. 

RURAL  LETTERS,  AND  OTHER  RECORDS  OF  THOUGHTS  AT 
LEISURE,  embracing  Letters  from  under  a  Bridge,  Open  Air  Musings  in  the  City, 
".Invalid  Eamble  in  Germany,"  "Letters  from  Watering  Places,"  &c.,  &c.  1  voL 
Fourth  Edition. 

"  There  is  scarcely  a  page  in  It  in  which  the  reader  wfll  not  remember,  and  turn  to  again 
With  a  fresh  sense  of  delight  It  bears  the  imprint  of  nature  in  her  purest  and  most  joy- 
ous forms,  and  under  her  most  cheering  and  inspiring  influences." — JCf.  Y.  Tribune. 

"If  we  would  show  how  a  modern  could  write  with  the  ease  of  Cowley,  most  gentle 
lover  of  nature's  gardens,  and  their  fitting  accessaries  from  life,  we  would  oner  this  volume 
as  the  best  proof  that  the  secret  has  not  yet  died  out."— Literary  World. 

PEOPLE  I  HAVE  M  ET,  or  Pictures  of  Society  and  People  of  Mark— drawn  under  Jk 
thin  veil  of  fiction.  By  N.  P.  WILLIS.  1  voL,  12mo.  Third  Edition. 

"  It  is  a  collection  of  twenty  or  more  of  the  stories  which  have  blossomed  out  from  the 
summer  soil  of  the  author's  thoughts  within  the  last  few  years.  Each  word  in  some  of 
them  the  author  seems  to  have  picked  as  daintily,  for  its  richness  or  grace,  or  its  fine  fit- 
ness to  his  purpose,  as  if  a  humming-bird  were  picking  upon  his  quivering  wing  the 
flower  whose  sweets  he  would  lovingly  rifle,  or  a  belle  were  culling  the  stones  for  her 
bridal  necklace." — N.  Y.  Independent. 

"  The  book'embraces  a  great  variety  of  personal  and  social  sketches  in  the  Old  "World, 
and  concludes  with  some  thrilling  reminiscences  of  distinguished  ladies,  including  the 
Belles  of  New  York,  etc." — The  Republic. 

LIFE  HERE  AND  THERE,  or  Sketches  of  Society  and  Adventure  .at  far-apart time* 
and  places.  By  N.  P.  WILLIS.  1  voL,  12mo. 

"This  very  agreeable  volume  consists  of  sketches  of  life  and  adventure,  all  of  them,  the 
author  assures  us,  having  a  foundation  strictly  historical,  and  to  a  great  extent  autobiogra- 
phical. Such  of  these  sketches  as  we  have  read,  are  in  Mr.  Willis's  happiest  vein — a  vein, 
by  the  way,  in  which  he  is  unsurpassed." — SartaWs  Magazine. 

"Few  readers  who  take  up  this  pleasant  volume  will  lay  It  aside  until  they  have  perused 
every  line  of  its  contents." — Jersey  Journal. 

HURRYGRAPHS,  or  Sketches  of  Scenery,  Celebrities,  and  Society,  taken  from  Life 
By  N.  P.  WILLIS.  1  vol.,  12mo.  Third  Edition. 

"  Some  of  the  best  specimens  of  Mr.  Willis's  prose,  we  think,  are  herein  contained."— 
2f.  Y.Evangdiat. 

"  In  the  present  volume,  which  Is  filled  with  all  sorts  of  enticements,  we  prefer  the 
descriptions  of  nature  to  the  sketches  of  character,  and  the  dusty  road-side  grows  delight- 
ful under  the  touches  of  Willis's  blossoming-dropping  pen;  and  when  we  come  to  the 
mountain  and  lake,  it  is  like  revelling  in  all  the  fragrant  odors  of  Paradise." — Boston  Atlas. 

PENCILINGS  BY  THE  WAY.— A  Newand  Revised  Edition.  ByN.  P.  Wn.u» 
1  vol.,  l-2mo. 


HERBERT'S  NSW  WORL 

THE  CAPTAINS  OF  THE  OLD  WORLD— Their  Campaigns— Character,  and 
Conduct  as  compared  with  the  great  modern  Strategists — From  the  Persian  Wars  to 
the  end  of  the  Koman  Republic.  By  HENKY  W.  HERBERT.  1  vol.  12mo.,  with  illus- 
trations, cloth.  Price',  $1  25. 

CONTEXTS. — The  Military  Art  among  the  Greeks  and  Romans — Miltiades,  the  sot  of  Ci- 
mon— His  battle  of  Marathon — Themistocles,  his  seu-fight  off  Salamis,  &c. — Pansauias, 
the  Spartan ;  his  battle  of  Plataia,  <fcc. — Xenophon,  the  Athenian  ;  his  retreat  of  the 
Ten  Thousand,  &c. — Epaniinondas,  his  Campaigns,  battle  of  Leuktra  and  Mantinela — 
Alexander  of  Macedon,  his  battles  of  the  Granikos,  Issos,  and  Arbela,  &c. — Hannibal, 
his  battles  of  the  Ticinus,  Trebbia,  Thrasymene,  and  Cause. 

"The  theme  is  full  of  interest,  to  which  Mr.  Herbert's  known  literary  ability  and  classi- 
cal taste  may  be  expected  to  give  due  exposition.  The  work  is  an  original  one — the  ma- 
terial of  which  he  claims  to  derive,  not  from  modern  books,  but  from  the  ancient  authentic 
sources  of  history  which  he  has  examined  for  himself." — U.  &  Gazette  cfc  2f.  American. 

"Mr.  Herbert  has  succeeded  admirably— and  has  produced  a  work  that  will  entitle  him 
to  a  high  rank  with  the  best  authors  of  his  native  and  his  adopted  country." — Syracuse 
Star. 

"The  exploits  of  those  captains  are  detailed,  whose  achievements  exerted  the  most 
powerful  influence  on  the  destinies  of  the  world.  The  author  is  a  well-read  historian,  and 
bus  contemplated  the  events  he  describes  with  the  eye  of  a  philosopher  and  scholar." — 
Philadelphia  Preslyterian. 

"This  is  a  powerful  and  brilliant  delineation  of  the  captains  of  the  Old  "World — it  opens 
•with  the  three  great  Wars  of  Greece,  and  traces  the  course  of  Hannibal  in  the  most  capti 
vating  style."— Albany  Spectator. 

"  To  a  nervous  and  pointed  style  the  author  adds  the  research  of  a  scholar  and  the  en- 
thusiasm of  a  man  of  action.  The  strategies  of  warfare — the  arming  of  troops,  and  the 
stern  conflicts  of  man  with  man,  are  of  course  congenial  subjects  to  one  whose  knowledge 
cf  skill  in  woodcraft  is  proverbial,  and  Mr.  Herbert  consequently  enters  into  them  with 
gusto  and  with  clearness  of  perception." — The  Albion. 

"This  volume  which  is  intended  to  be  the  first  of  a  series,  includes  seven  of  the  greatest 
generals  of  antiquity,  beginning  with  Miltiades  and  ending  with  Hannibal.  The  facts  are  all 
drawn  from  the  most  authentic  sources,  and  the  characters  displayed  with  uncommon 
skill  and  effect  It  was  a  bright  thought,  the  bringing  together  of  these  illustrious  names 
in  one  group." — Albany  Argus. 

"  The  writer  draws  a  comparison  between  them  and  the  great  modern  strategists,  and 
gives  an  exceedingly  interesting  and  graphic  picture  of  the  celebrated  conflicts  of  olden 
times  from  the  Persian  wars  to  the  Punic  wars."— Jf.  Y.  Observer. 

"  This  is  an  unique  and  able  work.  It  displays  sound  and  varied  scholarship,  united 
with  a  knowledge  of  the  military  art  rarely  possessed  by  a  civilian.  There  is  a  truth  and 
freshness  about  the  descriptions  that  show  the  author  to  be  no  second-hand  compiler,  but 
one  who  has  drawn  his  knowledge  from  a  careful  study  of  the  Greek  and  Eoman  historians 
In  their  native  garb.  We  would  recommend  this  work  to  the  attention  of  the  young  stu- 
dent, as  a  better  manual  of  antiquitiesTelativo  to  the  military  art,  than  any  set  treatise  on 
the  subject,  while  its  views  of  historical  epochs  and  political  relations  are  equally  valuable 
nnd  trustworthy.  His  analysis  of  the  character  and  strategy  of  the  great  captains  of  ant! 
(juity  is  full  of  interest  and  instruction." — Jf.  T.  Recorder. 


ift1.  LYflOT  NEW  WORL 


NAVAL  LIFE—  THE  MIDSHIPMAN:  or  Observations  Afloat  and  Ashore;    By 
LHUT.  W.  F.  LYNCH,  autnor  of  "  Dead  Sea  Expedition."    1  voL  12mo.    Price,  $1. 

"  The  style  is  spirited  and  commanding,  tbe  matter  of  the  most  exciting  character,  and 
the  deductions  often  drawn  from  incident  and  adventure  worthy  of  the  head  and  the  heart 
of  the  author."  —  American  Spectator. 

"  Amid  the  rollicking  and  exciting  scenes,  so  characteristic  of  a  life  on  the  ocean  wave* 
the  author  has  introduced  others  of  a  more  subdued  kind  —  passages  here  and  there  of 
touching  pathos  —  little  gushings  from  the  fount  of  a  chastened  and  sensitive  nature,  be- 
traying a  heart  susceptible  to  the  higher  and  better  feelings  that  adorn  and  dignify  man." 

—  Weekly  Eclectic. 

"  The  adventures  he  and  his  shipmates  met  with  in  various  quarters  of  the  globe,  are 
narrated  in  an  unpretending  style,  but  with  graphic  power.  Several  of  these  narrations 
are  of  exciting  interest,  and  they  so  closely  follow  each  other,  that  the  reader  will  find  it 
Impossible  to  lay  down  the  book  until  he  has  reached  the  last  page."  —  Portland  Tran- 
script. 

"  This  is  a  delightful  matter-of-fact  volume,  for  which  we  predict  a  great  many  readers." 

—  Christian  Intelligencer. 

"  It  is  a  work  which  does  credit  to  the  moral  and  literary  character  of  the  navy."  —  N. 
Y.  Evangelist. 

"  It  is  well  written,  avoiding  coarseness  and  slang,  and  will  be  a  pleasant  companion  for 
the  winter  evenings."  —  Cincinnati  Herald. 

"  The  author  has  a  great  variety  of  experience,  and  he  has  made  out  of  it  not  only  an 
agreeable  but  instructive  book."—  Albany  Argus. 

"  It  is  lilled  with,  lively  portraitures  of  naval  life,  and  must  be  read  with  interest  both 
by  seamen  and  landsmen."  —  N.  Y.  Tribune. 

"This  is  a  pleasing  book,  abundantly  teeming  with  the  thrilling  jasualties  of  'hair- 
breadth 'scapes'  which  beset  the  paths  of  those  who  plough  the  enchafed  bosom  of  the 
deep,  and  is  strikingly  characterized  by  the  winning  graces  of  modesty  of  tone  aud  a  re- 
fined simplicity  of  narration."  —  Waeltington  Republic. 


ANNALS  OF  THE  QUEENS  OF  SP.AIN.    By  AKITA  GEOKGK.    2  volfl.  12rco. 
Price,  $2  50. 

"Of  the  manner  in  which  she  has  performed  her  task, it  is  enough  to  say  that  she  has 
won  the  distinguished  commendation  of  Win.  H.  Prescott. ' — Jf.  Y.  Evangelist. 

"Mrs.  George  follows  steadily  the  highway  of  her  subject  without  diverging  to  any  by- 
paths of  speculation  and  illustration.  Her  object  appottrs  to  be,  to  give  as  much  informa- 
tion as  possible  in  small  compass,  in  which  she  succeeds.1' — Literary  World. 

"The  authoress  has  worked  her  way  through  the  scattered  rubbish  of  the  past  and  pro- 
duced a  work  of  immediate  and  lasting  interest." — Bangor  Courier. 

"The  work  is  written  in  a  clear  and  vivacious  style,  and  is  an  accession  to  the  popolni 
literature." — Prairie  Herald. 


THE  PLANETARY  AND  STELLAR  WORLDS;  A  Popular  Exposition  of  the 
Great  Discoveries  and  Theories  of  Modem  Astronomy.    In  a  Series  of  Ten  Lectures, 
By  Prof.  O.  M.  MITCHELL.    1  voL  12mo.    Price,  $1  25. 

For  a  practical,  comprehensive  exposition  of  the  principles  of  astronomy,  as  they  ara 
jjow  understood,  no  better  work  can  be  found.  Written  in  a  glowing  style,  the  great 
principles  and  facts  of  the  science  are  stated  in  that  popular  language  which  every  reader 
can  understand,  and  which  presents  the  author's  thoughts  In  the  clearest  manner.  For 
the  use  of  schools,  and  for  private  reading,  we  think  it  will  win  its  way  at  once  to  an  uni- 
versal popularity.  It  is  illustrated  by  a  series  of  admirable  engravings,  which  add,  of 
course,  Incomparably  to  the  excellence  and  utility  of  the  work. — New  York  Evangelist. 

In  itself  considered,  this  is  one  of  the  most  interesting,  entertaining,  instructive  and 
valuable  works  that  we  have  perused  in  many  a  day.  We  have  read  it  with  feelings  glow- 
ing more  and  more  with  the  finishing  of  every  page ;  and  have  longed  to  put  it  into  the 
hand  of  every  inhabitant  of  earth  whose  soul  leaps  after  the  systems  of  worlds  and  suns 
which  circle  above  him,  and  onward  to  immortality  and  heaven. — Spectator, 

The  work  gives  a  most  admirable  popular  exposition  of  the  great  discoveries  and 
theories  of  modern  astronomy,  and  cannot  fail  to  be  universally  rend  with  the  greatest 
profit  and  delight  We  commend  it  to  attention  and  favor. — Courier  and  EngvArer. 

The  work  throughout  displays  a  most  familiar  and  extensive  knowledge  of  the  subjects 
of  which  it  treats,  and  is  written  in  a  style  of  glowing  eloquence  that  is  in  accordance  with 
the  magnificent  scenes  and  objects  which  it  describes. — Arneriean  Literary  Magazine. 

LECTURES  ON  SHAKSPEARE.    By H.  N.  HUDSON.    2vols.,12mo.    Price,  $2  50. 

Many  of  the  lectures  have  been  re-written  a  dozen  times ;  and  probably  few  books  of 
the  size  ever  published  in  the  country,  have  been  the  slow  product  of  so  much  toil  of 
analysis  and  research.  Almost  every  sentence  gives  evidence  of  being  shaped  in  tho 
"  forge  and  working-house  of  thought"  AH  questions  which  rise  naturally  in  the  progress 
of  the  work  are  sturdily  met  and  answered,  however  great  may  be  their  demand  on  tho 
intellect  or  the  time  of  the  author.  Everything  considered,  snbtilty,  depth,  force,  bril- 
liancy, comprehension,  we  know  of  no  work  of  criticism  ever  produced  in  the  United 
States  which  equals  the  present,  either  in  refinement  and  profundity  of  thought,  or  splen- 
,dor  and  intensity  of  expression.  Indeed,  none  of  our  critics  have  devoted  so  much  time  as 
Mr.  Hudson  to  one  subject,  or  been  content  to  confine  themselves  so  rigidly  to  the  central 
son  of  our  English  literary  system.  We  doubt,  also,  if  there  be  any  work  on  8hakspcar«, 
produced  on  the  other  side  ef  the  Atlantic  which  is  so  complete  as  the  present  in  all  which 
relates  to  Shakspeare's  tnind  and  character.  It  not  only  comprehends  the  highest  results 
of  Shaksperian  criticism,  but  it  is  a  step  forward. — Graham's  Magazine. 

They  are  the  work  of  a  man  of  an  original  turn  of  thinking  and  expression,  and  are  full 
of  brilliant  thoughts,  and  acute,  often  novel  speculations. — Evening  Post. 

They  contain,  on  the  whole,  the  most  satisfactory  estimate  of  this  prince  of  the  drama 
to  be  found  in  our  language.  The  style  in  which  they  are  written  is  unusually  chaste  and 
•beautiful,  and  the  writer  has  so  entrenched  himself  in  the  very  soul  of  his  subject,  that 
there  seems  to  be  a  perfect  community  of  thought,  feeling,  even  pulsation. — Albany  Atlas. 

Mr.  Hudson  has  here  brought  together  not  only  ail  the  authentic  facts  that  have  come 
down  to  us  in  regard  to  the  life  and  character  of  Shakspeare,  but  all  the  really  valuable 
Criticisms  that  throw  light  upon  his  intellectual  history  and  his  moral  and  intellectual 
.character. — Boston  Evening  Transcript. 

We  regard  it  as  decidedly  the  ablest  and  most  valuable  book  of  criticism  ever  published 
4n  this  country  —Courier  and  Enquiry. 


: 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 

Los  Angeles 
This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below. 


•Wtt 

OEC1JJ984 


A     000  034  365     7 


